Lorraine rose slowly, her golden hair tumbling down in a silken cascade that brushed against her hips, catching the sunlight as if spun from fire. Leroy watched her, transfixed, his green eyes drinking in every curve of her small and delicate body that carried storms in her veins, as she stepped closer.
He picked up his clothes and placed on the bed. Standing on the bed, she reached for him, her slender hands dressing him piece by piece, her movements both dutiful and intimate. He was tall, and from that height her body brushed against his, soft skin gliding over hardened muscle, a quiet offering with every touch.
