This was the stuff of novels with -- yeah -- men like him on the cover.

The sooner it's over, the sooner we can go back to bed. Everything good happens in bed.

She gave herself up to the waves of the storm. If they drowned, it would be together, a shattered vessel on the sea, a collision of longing and desire.

He'd pushed and pushed and pushed until she had nowhere else to go but away from him. He'd been young back then himself. Inexperienced. Stupid. A little patience accomplished a lot more. Hard lesson to learn. Worst way to learn it.

He dragged her to him, and she, being equally focused on attaching her mouth to his, lost her balance. Stepping in for the save, he held her up against the doorjamb with his hard body, mouth rasping hers, tongue deep enough to touch her soul. Could be oxygen deprivation, but she saw stars behind her closed lids.