"yes," yangjin gasped, her hips lifting in a silent plea. "i want this. with you. please, zhi… i want all of it."
something inside qiao zhi shattered and healed all at once. she worked the button and zipper of yangjin's jeans open, her fingers brushing against the hot skin beneath. she tugged them down, along with the last scrap of silk underwear, her movements deliberate, worshipful. she tossed them to the floor, joining the growing pile of their discarded lives.
the room filled with the sound of quiet sighs, whispered names, and the rustle of fabric. qiao zhi shed her own clothes in a fraction of the time, her need a roaring fire.
and then they were skin to skin, heat sharing and building. yangjin trembled, a full-body tremor of anticipation. qiao zhi's touches were reverent, mapping every inch of her as if she were afraid of missing a single detail. every curve, every shiver, every gasp became sacred scripture.
