Francisco's hands moved with tender confidence as they traced the curve of Hazel's waist. Their eyes were locked in an intense gaze, each breath they took syncing with the other's. Hazel's fingers danced down Francisco's chest, pausing at his belt.

"It's bursting," she whispered, her voice a soft caress.

Francisco's fingers continued their gentle exploration, his voice a husky murmur, "Shouldn't it?"

"Doesn't a gentleman have it?"

Hazel looked at him; his side face ...