And finally the only dance left was the dance of lovers entwined, their bodies making music of their own, dancing to a private rhythm, a jazz of harmonic idioms in tune with each other, improvising as they went. The rhythm filled them, fuelled them, spurring them on, finding out what worked, what mixed—and it all did. Every last cell in their bodies seemed to be sated with desire until she could hold back no longer. Every pulse in her body had aligned, focusing towards her very epicentre as he exploded within her. Gasping, her body throbbing, she opened her eyes. She needed to see him at this moment—see the man who had brought her to this magical place. For he was the perfection she craved, he was the ultimate fantasy, and she was living it, loving it.
To close her eyes now would only taint the dream.
‘What about Aiden?’
His question filtered through the haze, unwelcome and unexpected, the harshness in his voice such a stark contrast to the husky endearments of only moments before.
‘Tabitha?’
She heard the impatient note, the summons for an explanation. Pulling up the heavy white sheet, she tucked it around her, her eyes darting to his, reeling with shock at the contempt so visible, stunned at the change in his demeanour.
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