Soon there were no layers left between them and nothing to impede their ability to see each other. Having kicked off his trousers and underthings, he hovered above her, staring down at her for a moment. There was no particular expression on his face, save for the look of desire that his entire body—the pink flush of his skin, the sweat beads on his forehead, and the obvious hardness pressed up against her abdomen—couldn't hide if he'd tried.

He wanted her, and part of him was surprised that they'd even managed to reach this point. It should have been obvious when she let him shag her in the garden, but part of him expected her to have run off with a new boy-toy when he'd been informed that he was gone a month. It was irrational and silly and he knew it was just his insecurities at play, but it didn't make the shock of having her in his bed any less real.

"What's your weakness?" he asked, hand wandering until he cupped her breast. He gave it a light squeeze, his brows quirking as if to ask "is this it?". He then leaned down and buried his face in her neck, pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses against her skin. Part of him wanted to get on with it and have his way with her, but another, more curious part of him that wanted to know what exactly drove her mad now that there weren't any clothes in the way.

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