Why hadn't they done this months ago? Why hadn't she told him, the first time she felt this powerful draw to him? Why hadn't she reached out and touched him, kissed him, held him?

Every kiss grows longer, deeper, every touch grows bolder. Her hand slips between them before they even reach the bed, daring to caress along his length through his trousers. She needs him, needs to feel that same need from him. Another kiss, breathless and tinged with a quiet desperation, drawing him down with her to the mattress.

How did she live so long without this? How could she ever do without it again?