His hand lay upon her shoulder,
his fingers curling against the rich apricot of her sleeve.
His breath whispered against her skin,
singing a song of his wanting, his desire
without reprieve.

And she was his in that moment,
with no will of her own, no anchor to cling to but the one he provided.
And she was still and silent,
her every thought, her every sense lost in him ...
she couldn't think, she couldn't speak -- she was in his thrall,
tongue-tied.

His teeth grazed the tender flesh of her earlobe
and the scent upon the nape of her neck left his sense reeling.
And still she was silent,
her breath caught as his touch, his voice, his words held her captive
in an erotic landscape of feeling.