These past few days, aside from meals, Kingsly Scott and Rachel Foster had hardly left their room.
Once again, Rachel lay atop him—her face buried in the crook of his shoulder as she clutched him tightly, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
"I never knew…" she murmured.
She had always believed that intimate encounters were purely for procreation. It wasn't until two years ago—when she truly began to understand the depths of passion, even though their early encounters, marred by bitter circumstances, felt like pure torment—that she discovered the overwhelming, soul-consuming sweetness of such intimacy when shared between two people in love.
"Are you alright?" Kingsly asked tenderly, wrapping his arms around her.
"I thought I was going to die just now," she exclaimed as if the ecstasy might overwhelm her. Her exaggerated description made him burst into laughter.
