He kissed her until kissing wasn’t enough, until she was mindless, breathless with the same urgent need that drove him. Their clothing disappeared as if by magick, his or hers, it didn’t matter. She looked up at him, a low moan of pleasure rising from deep in her throat as he worshiped her beauty with his eyes and his hands…large hands that caressed her ever so gently, demanding nothing, asking for everything. There was no hesitation in her now, no hint of maidenly modesty, no murmur of half-hearted protest. In spite of the rain and the cold, her skin was warm, heated by the desire that burned within her. She was a woman, with a woman’s needs, and he fanned the embers of her desire until she was ready for him, until she cried his name, her voice thick with passion and a hunger that could no longer be denied. And he took her, there, upon the wet grass. Took her innocence, and her blood, and in so doing, he bound her to him for as long as either of them drew breath.