He moved with her rhythm, fingers working her over as she rocked forward, and hips meeting her as she sank back down. He wanted her to let go, to feel him everywhere in all directions at once, taking him with her as that wave overtook her body.

Making love to her was the most pure thing he'd ever done, the most honest. Ava had been fun, sure, but ultimately the purging of a high school infatuation countless of boys at his school'd had. Meeting Winona, thousands of miles from their shared home, had been fate. They were made to fit together, to consume one another.

Raylan threaded his free fingers into her hair, tugging gently so she'd come out of herself and look at him. "Winona," he whispered, all necessary goading in his tone familiar to her ears. Come for me, it said.