As she pulled the nightdress off Ford wondered whether or not he was the first person to see her in this state, entirely laid bare. He was fairly confident she hadn't slept with a man before, but he'd had plenty of sex without ever touching a woman's breast before, so he didn't necessarily want to jump to conclusions (someone had gotten her half-undressed in the coat room before he'd arrived; something had caused her to tell everyone she was engaged in January). But it didn't matter, he supposed, because it was the first time he was seeing her and she looked evidently anxious about it; she was biting her lip, which was an easy tell. (Was it a positive sign that he already felt as though he could read her face, at least to some extent? But perhaps she was just easy to read).

He found himself mirroring her, biting his own lower lip as he turned his eyes down to her body. Her breasts looked bigger than he would have expected after only seeing her clothed before. (He guessed he was meant to touch them or kiss them? It didn't seem there would be much else one could do with breasts). The way her body curved in at her waistline was pleasing, and he reached out to fit his hand along it without pausing to think. This was good, he decided — things had been better when he was doing things without thinking about them.

"Lay back," he suggested. "Let me kiss you." He'd been kissing her, of course, but he didn't mean just her mouth this time around. He pushed gently on her side, guiding her down. He moved one leg between hers to better position himself and leaned in to put his lips against her shoulder, her collarbone, and then, tentatively, down to the top of one breast.

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