Page 99 of The Singer

“Not a dream.”

He reached down, changed the angle of his thrusts until she let out a hitched breath that told him—how did he know?—she was close.

“Yes,” she chanted again. “Yes yes yes…”

He felt her go over the edge and he followed, moving through the rush of her climax and closing his eyes as the lights flashed in his mind. He saw them before, making love in a cave, thousands of miles away, her mouth falling open in pleasure and her head thrown back. The images overlapped in his mind, and he saw them.

The first time.

Again.

Always.

His body met his soul, and Malachi lived.