Their hearts pounded against each other.

Rin's open kiss was hot and tortuously slow. She experimented rather than letting him take control; holding his face, touching the sharp teeth with the tip of her tongue, sliding against his, even sucking on it.

While Sesshomaru submitted to all of this with princely grace, he struggled with the urge to go under and up the hem of his kimono she wore. He could go mad from her scant caress. Already his face betrayed his burning desire for her. Hairline cracks appeared in the thin veneer of his subdued expression, and his claws, gripped into fists, was full not with her but with his own fur.

Seeing this gave Rin new confidence, and she swelled with feminine pride. She was a petite thing, a slight girl, really. But a girl who pinned a demon to the bark of a tree and kept him there.