His hands, large and warm, slid reverently over her body, caressing the soft swell of her now heavier breasts. He handled her like she was something rare and sacred. His touch was achingly gentle, almost worshipful, sending shivers chasing down her spine.
Slowly, cautiously, Lucas's hand drifted lower, between her thighs, pausing there like a man on the edge of a cliff unsure if he should jump. Even though he missed her so badly it felt like bleeding, he refused to rush, refused to risk frightening her.
But when Ava let out a soft, desperate moan against his mouth, Lucas's restraint crumbled. That sound — her sound — was the sweetest magic he had ever heard. He grinned against her lips, relief flooding him so fast it made him dizzy.
