There's no reason not to be kissing him. (A familiar thought, by now.) And so she is, once he's removed her boots and leaned back to her. Slow, thorough kisses as she pus her hands back into his hair. Derrica's layers are easily shucked off, shawls and thick sweater draped over her shoulders simple enough to shrug away. Loxley has clever hands and the ties and sashes cinching her tunic closed and her leggings around her hips hardly present a challenge.

The floor is cold under her feet. Derrica tiptoes up into the kiss right, makes a soft sound of entreaty as she leans further into him. She murmurs, "You're so good to me," against his mouth. She's told him a variation of such a thing before, and it is just as true now as it was then, but the words are raw around the edges.