Her back arched, head falling to the side as she let out a soft moan.
He stood at the foot of the bed, watching as her heel dug into the sheets, pushing it downward as she writhed. He found himself taking in her silky sun-kissed skin, exposed from the hiked up material of her shirt. Lillian was dreaming again, of him, of them—of back then. He could see himself over her in a different form, their bodies tangled. Her hair was longer then but she’d had the same demeanor, was just as quick to cry when his body sent hers over the precipice of bliss over and over again.
If only he’d known then what he knew now. He would have indulged further.
Being chaste had been hell.
Worse than hell, really, since that had become home to him.
“I’m surprised with you.”
He gri
