He kissed her like he was starving. Greedy, hard kisses. Like she slaked his thirst. Full of longing and devotion. His hands roamed everywhere. He was starved for her. The plush give of her skin. Her scent of laundry and lactonic cream. One hand stayed in her hair, pulling tightly, exposing her neck to him, so his nose could trace up and down the thin skin there, dropping little kisses on her column and along her clavicle. The other climbed down her back and toward the hem of her nightgown. He paused there, squeezing her round thigh so tightly that her flesh sprang up enticingly against his palm.