A Trusting of the Senses

Jas leaned into his warm, roughened palm, her eyes drifting half-closed. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d waited for this man all her life, that fate somehow bound them together. “I’m analytical,” she whispered fervently, “level-headed. Things like this don’t happen to people like me.”

He cupped her chin, silencing her. Then, slowly, reverently, he brushed back her hair, his fingertips skimming along the edge of her ear. She held herself completely still, certain that a single move would shatter this dream.

Her breath caught as he pressed his lips to her hair, then her cheek. “Trust your senses, my angel,” he murmured, nuzzling her throat. “What they reveal is not always what we expect.” Weaving his fingers through her hair, he guided her to his mouth.