Much kissed with such an aching need Qebhet could fairly taste it, thrumming beneath his skin with a kind of electrical charge, like the charge that hung in the air before the onset of a summer storm. It dawned on her with a small thrill of amazement that the need was for her— that he'd been craving just this since the moment she opened the door, that he'd been holding back out of concern over pushing her. When at last she broke the kiss, she was grinning, cheeks dimpling. "Well," she said, lips still close enough to brush his when she spoke, "I don't believe anything's broken, do you?"