The girl was panting in the grass beneath him; her heart thundered in her bared and heaving breast, and she could feel not just physically but on some undefineable and otherworldly level that they were perched upon the edge of the unknown, with that press of him against that tender barrier within her. Her sapphire gaze searched his emerald.<br/><br/>The taste of him was still on her lips as her tongue flickered across it, and she smiled breathily up at him, the hand upon his shoulder easing, and the one at his hip pressing slightly. "I love you, Claude Murneau," she whispered, and the truth of it was edged in the expectant joy that flooded her features, sparkled in her eyes. She was his for the taking, without reservation.