Niobe felt a warm wash of pleasure.

A warm, wet wash of blood sheeted across the right side of her face.

His power built in a warm wash.

A warm wash of welcome ebbed through me with the touch.

"No, no," he said and stalked toward me, his anger starting to rise in a warm prickling wash.

Droplets of water ran down her face, shimmering silver in the warm wash of the streetlights.

Power spurted up through me, a sudden warm wash that felt startling against the cold winter afternoon.

He heard it as the warm wash of rain against his naked skin; saw it as a bell tone, attenuating.

The feel of the knife driving into flesh, and the warm wash of blood.

That, he declared, was what people meant by the warm sonorous wash they could fall asleep to.