He wants to make her feel like he worships her. It's the honest truth, he does, and it's the way it always is for him. He can do quick and hard and fast, sure, but even then, he wants her to know, always, that this is more than just fucking; he wants to say with his hands and his lips and his tongue what he can't always find the words to express.

Neal lets his free hand slide around her hip to palm flat between her legs, pressing up against the warm heat of her, and he wants her so bad it aches, right down to his core. If he had his way, they'd spend all of their time in bed, to hell with their other responsibilities. That's not the way the world works, of course -- he's an idealist but he's seen to much to not have a dash of realist in him -- but a boy can dream.