The sensation of him thrusting that much of himself that deeply into me tore my shields away, and since no one else was fighting, the ardeur roared back to life. Something touched my hand, and I was jerked back to the grave. Now, I knew I could swim in it, or simply ignore it. I didn't have a right to push if I wasn't his girlfriend.
Such a nice turn of phrase, I said, and the tension just seeped right back in. But I caught enough to know that Jean-Claude was asking him if the changes to his face had happened duri But it was my hand that left his back and traced his face, cupped his cheek, pressed my body deeper against his, so that I felt him stretched tight and firm under his clothes. God knows there was enough to talk about.
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