The fabric was rough-woven, designed for the heat, but it did little to hide the swell of her breasts or the curve of her hips.
Jorghan's pulse raced as he pressed against her, his body responding instinctively, a hardening ache building in his groin.
Breaking the kiss just enough to speak, Sarhita whispered against his lips, her voice husky, "Show me, Jorghan. Show me how humans improvise."
That was all the invitation he needed.
With a low growl in his throat, he pushed her back gently onto the flat stone, the rock still warm from the day's sun, radiating heat up through their bodies like a natural bed.
The view below—the Jaruna River glowing like molten gold, the Brownhill Dunes undulating in endless waves—faded into insignificance as he hovered over her, his knees straddling her thighs.
