She is a summer storm on low simmer, with a sass as quick as a lightning flash comeback style that can make him laugh for days.

He has eyes that sing her songs of moonlight at noon, of warm rain on bare honeyed skin, of long low notes that curl like smoke and sound just right.

She carries a question in the weighted sway of her hips, in the soft tilt of her head, in the way her smile presses against him in the dark.

His hands carry an undeniable need that presses back, always with an answer of yes.