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He then licked the outside lips before moving to stab his tongue as deeply into her as he could. He stepped aside, motioning for John to enter with a jerky nod, acutely aware of every nuance in his movements. Larry took her hand and let her guide him to her. She pulled it out, eyes widening—the strap-on dildo, bold and unapologetic, among the lace and silk. The world narrowed to the point of their connection; the couch, the room, the very fabric of reality seemed inconsequential. Cheyenne looked down on him, his eyes closed, his lips surrounding her nipple, and his tongue flipping over it. Her laughter echoed in his memory, a sound that could strip away the layers of grief clinging to his bones. Her fingertips brushed against an object that didn’t match the texture of scarves or lingerie.