Eventually the urgency of their earlier reunion softened into something quieter. Lilith stretched beneath the sheets, the long lines of her body shifting against the silk.
Atheline propped himself on one elbow, white hair spilling over one shoulder, and simply looked at her. Purple eyes met golden ones and held.
His lips curled into a soft inviting smile.
Neither of them spoke at first. His hand drifted along the curve of her waist, slow enough that she could feel every inch of the touch. She turned fully toward him, one leg sliding over his hip, and guided him back inside her with the same unhurried care.
The sensation was different this time, deeper, fuller, almost meditative. They moved together in long, rolling strokes, foreheads nearly touching, breath mingling. Every time she lifted her hips he met her; every time he sank deep she exhaled against his mouth.
"Look at me," she whispered.
