Kash watched her face, relearning every tiny shift of expression and healing a little from each hint of appreciation or approval. When her fingers closed around his shaft, he made a small choked noise and his fingers clasped tight on her thighs just above her knees.

He let out a slow breath through his nose as the sudden cramp of pleasure in his abdomen subsided, and when he'd remembered how to speak again, Kash confessed, "I thought about your hands... when I needed release," and watched her hands like a man starved.

Fuck 'like'. He was starved. For her. For touch. For love. He had two and a half journals full of his hunger.