She might have felt self-conscious when he trailed off mid-sentence without telling her how she looked, if not for something in his tone or his expression. She couldn’t define it, but it – felt more like a compliment than an insult, more as though she had done something right than wrong.
And she couldn’t feel self-conscious because he had taken off his wedding suit now too. Still more covered up than her, maybe, but just as under dressed – it was a better balance than in the coatroom. Her eyes had trailed over his body briefly in curiosity, but he was coming over again and abruptly all she could focus on was him looking at her. Nerves had fizzed up in her again, but as he touched her neckline and her hair, it was no longer the uncomfortable pins-and-needle kind. Her stomach had loosened from its knots enough for her to feel a fluttering sensation in it.
And – oh. Oh. His mouth was on her earlobe and her neck, and she scarcely suppressed a gasp. It had been a sudden step forwards, but he seemed much less awkward now – and Jemima had apparently forgotten how she had meant to feign reticence and modesty, because she curled her hands up around his neck, to use him for balance or maybe also to bring them a little closer. She could feel the muscles of his shoulders as she did (Jack’s shoulders had been muscular too, but then Jack had had the excuse of being a professional quidditch player – she had not expected the firmness here). “Ford,” she tried, tentative, mostly to get him to look up so that she could kiss him again – but better this time. Properly.
And she couldn’t feel self-conscious because he had taken off his wedding suit now too. Still more covered up than her, maybe, but just as under dressed – it was a better balance than in the coatroom. Her eyes had trailed over his body briefly in curiosity, but he was coming over again and abruptly all she could focus on was him looking at her. Nerves had fizzed up in her again, but as he touched her neckline and her hair, it was no longer the uncomfortable pins-and-needle kind. Her stomach had loosened from its knots enough for her to feel a fluttering sensation in it.
And – oh. Oh. His mouth was on her earlobe and her neck, and she scarcely suppressed a gasp. It had been a sudden step forwards, but he seemed much less awkward now – and Jemima had apparently forgotten how she had meant to feign reticence and modesty, because she curled her hands up around his neck, to use him for balance or maybe also to bring them a little closer. She could feel the muscles of his shoulders as she did (Jack’s shoulders had been muscular too, but then Jack had had the excuse of being a professional quidditch player – she had not expected the firmness here). “Ford,” she tried, tentative, mostly to get him to look up so that she could kiss him again – but better this time. Properly.
