The rain had softened to a fine mist, veiling the Wessex valley in silver haze, the grass beneath them slick and yielding like a lover's skin.
Aiden lay on his back amid the wild tangle—torn clothes a forgotten armor, chest heaving from the storm's fury and the weight of her descent.
Catherine hovered above him, her pale, luscious body a revelation in the moonlight: curves forged in divine fire now bared to mortal air, golden hair cascading like a veil over her shoulders, her blue eyes—still rimmed with fading celestial glow—locked on his with a hunger that transcended the heavens.
She straddled his hips, knees sinking into the damp earth on either side of him, her naked form pressing down with deliberate slowness.
The heat of her core brushed his abdomen, slick and insistent, but it was the press of his arousal—hard, unyielding, straining against the confines of his breeches—that drew a soft, knowing gasp from her lips.
