Delaney turned away from the window. She walked back to the warm fireplace and sat down in the comfortable armchair again.
She picked up the explicit drawings one more time. She studied the ink lines carefully. She spent a long hour sitting in the room, staring at the papers, trying to memorize the strange instructions Ines had given her.
But as the grandfather clock in the corner chimed the late hour, Delaney realized something important.
She did not need a piece of paper to tell her how to love her husband. She did not need acrobatic instructions to feel pleasure. The intense, burning heat she felt whenever Rowan simply touched her hand or kissed her neck was completely natural. Their connection was not something that could be drawn in ink; it was something deeply felt in the very center of her heart.
Delaney looked at the papers. She shook her head slowly, a small smile touching her lips.
