Dane
Touching her was like coming home—like everything inside him had been holding its breath and could now breath again. All of him screaming that this was right, this was all he needed. She was here. They had made it!
The specter of his father loomed, and Dane pushed it away. That wasn't going to be his life anymore.
He rocked into her again and her head arched back. "Don't stop," she whispered, then took his mouth again and he groaned and gave himself up.
Lila gasped and whimpered, clutching at him, whispering his name. She nipped at his skin, his goose bumps rising wherever she touched. Her fingers trailing like cold comets, bringing him alive again and again.
He had to keep his eyes open, had to see her, to know she was real and there and his. He'd meant to make it last, to take his time, to make sure she was ready, but she threw her head back and pushed her hips into his, her core sliding against him, pleading, "Please, Dane!"
