"I'll suffer through somehow," Loxley says, easy and quick, but everything toned down and quiet in this proximity. "But I expect the real torture will be for everyone around us."
His fingers likewise skim across her skin, not so much in patterns than pathways, mapping the natural lines made by bone and muscle, her curves, all slow and light and lazy. Like he is indulging in the thing that looking naturally pulls him towards, which is to touch. He wonders if that's something she welcomes outside a bedroom as well.
He wonders a lot of things that will be fun to find out.
He lifts his hand, the backs of his knuckles easing down her jaw, admiring the flush of her skin, the subtle look of a mouth well-kissed.
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His fingers likewise skim across her skin, not so much in patterns than pathways, mapping the natural lines made by bone and muscle, her curves, all slow and light and lazy. Like he is indulging in the thing that looking naturally pulls him towards, which is to touch. He wonders if that's something she welcomes outside a bedroom as well.
He wonders a lot of things that will be fun to find out.
He lifts his hand, the backs of his knuckles easing down her jaw, admiring the flush of her skin, the subtle look of a mouth well-kissed.