Kit caught her up in his arms as though she had fallen, maybe I am falling, Lena thought, it feels just like it. She was suddenly afraid to hit the gr...und. But then he was holding her and her fear dissolved. She rested her damp cheek against his chest, feeling his heart beat heavily. He smelt like hay and wood smoke, of cinnamon and sweat, of warmth and leather, he smelt like Kit and it reassured her. He rested a hand against the small of her back, holding her body to his, her slenderness. Silently, she walked over to the dresser and felt underneath her everyday panties to reach the broad black leather belt that had belonged to her dead father. She brought it up to her nostrils and inhaled the heady scent. It reminded her of her youthful passion and the way her father had tried his best to bring her sensuous instincts under control. Of course, he failed, but she loved the fact he made the attempt and showed his love by disciplining her sinful flesh. He would have been mortified. More

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