His hands move over her with purpose. He watches her face, he looks in her eyes. He waits for the tiny lines around her mouth that are imperceptible to others to tighten and ease. He slides his fingers forward, up. Into slick heat and clenching muscle. He bites his lips and drowns his own need in the feel of her body.
She whispers under him and her hands dig into the stones that are his shoulders, his biceps. Her hips rise under his touch and Angel holds her down to the bed, the chair, the floor, to the desk.