He never wanted to see that look of disppointment in her eyes again, yet he couldn't allow himself to be crushed under his own yearning.

The problem was that the only reality he could see what a nut-brown nymph who could whisper like a song and move like a river of honey.

As he floated more and more deeply toward sleep, the scent of her body and hair was redolent throught his senses, until he was dreaming of breathing her skin.