““Was it ever . . .” She winced, wished she could muffle the need to ask. “Before, with anyone else—” “No.” He touched his lips to her brow, her nose, the dip in her chin. “It was never, with no one else.” Not for me, either.” She simply breathed him in. “Put your hands on me. I want your hands on me.” “I can do that.” He did, tumbling with her to a spread of floor cushions while the sun died brilliantly in the ocean.””
