Everything from the feel of her wrapped around his neck to the weight of her in his arms did nothing to dissuade Anthony that he was in the wrong. He settled on the ground beside Ms. Torie, knowing full-well what his awkwardness confirmed, but somehow the intelligent, grounded part of his brain did nothing to switch back on. He swore she even frowned a touch as he tucked her dress neatly in place… If that didn’t mean something then he didn’t know what would.

Another shiver raked down the brunette’s spine as cool fingers danced up his arm. His shirt was still wildly damp and sticking uncomfortably in places, but Anthony didn’t mind so much now with the warmth of the fire there to help him dry out. The doe-eyed expression on his companion’s face indicted that she might even help too, not that Anthony imagined she could possibly mean that, or know what all was implied. He was still determined to be strictly gentlemanly… in so much as he could. There were lines still, obscured maybe, but they were here! Dancing around somewhere!

Thumb against his cheek, Ms. Torie kissing gently against his jaw, Anthony could almost forget about those lines. A soft breath escaped him: half surprise, half suppressed urges to press her back into the filthy carpet. He returned her sweet kiss with a forced leisure of his own. Perhaps, if they went no further than this, it would be alright yet. Anthony let his eyes settle closed, comforted by that thought, and languished in kissing Ms. Torie to his heart’s content. She was so soft, so fragile, so perfect. It was hard not to press for more, even as one hand came to settle at her waist. He tugged her closer unwittingly, and pulled her lower lip gently into his mouth. All the better to distract himself from even thinking about undoing any of those iron-clad buttons.

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