He loves deep... hates hard, ever'thing's that killed what he loves. All great warriors are sich men ― FORREST CARTER
Alex placed biting kisses on Cat's neck. His hands unsnapped the flimsy threads holding her halter blouse together. Alex ran his hands over her ribs brushing his knuckles over the sensitive sides of her breasts. He never did the expected. But Cat encouraged him as she brought her hands over her head and arched her back thrusting out her chest. Pulling him in for kiss after kiss of shared ecstasy, she found herself rid of her skirt and underwear in one sweeping motion. Standing completely naked while he was still in trousers, she saw their reflection painted amid the rainy city scene. It somehow made the view before her even more thrilling.
Bending her at the knees, Alex carried Cat to the adjoining bedroom in his office.
She had the brief impression of an Impressionist painting, a lamp on a side-table near the edge of the bed and a dressing bureau. But as he reverently laid her over the gigantic bed, Cat was assailed with her feelings from before.