"I don't even know you," she managed, voice trembling.
He grinned, wicked and fond. "You will." Fingers brushed the hollow of her throat, mapping its fluttering rhythm, then drifted down the curve of her robe as if the fabric were smoke. "I will know every sigh you hide, every prayer you whisper."
Before she could reply, his lips returned, trailing along her jaw, her neck. At each feather-light kiss, her skin seemed to glow. When his teeth grazed the delicate tendon beneath her ear, a soft cry slipped free—a sound she had never made, could scarcely believe came from her.
Silver mist thickened around them, cocooning heat and shadow. His hands explored—skimming the slope of her shoulders, tracing the arch of her waist, spreading over her hips. Each touch was possessive yet reverent, like a craftsman appreciating sacred marble before sculpting it into something new.
