Her movement startles him more than he cares to admit; his reflexes are sharp, even dulled as they are currently by wine and desire, but he simply did not expect - even now, even in spite of all the unrestrained interest she has shown thus far - for her to be so forward.

Nor, if he is honest, for her to put herself so closely in contact with him, where there is no question that she can feel the swell that might otherwise be disguised by the folds of his trousers, or that she hears how his breath catches in a short gasp. That gasp becomes a low laugh, though, at her unvarnished words, and he leans forward and against her as she kisses him, his fingers carding through her hair and his other hand instinctively coming up against the elegant arch of her side. Her body is flush against his then, her breasts pressing against his chest, and that sweet tension between his thighs rises, heat flowing into the pit of his belly.

"So I can see," he remarks drily, and his teeth flash for a moment in a smile that is almost giddy. His hand has found its place at the back of her neck, and he draws her in again, kissing her once more. "And I want you - more, I think, than I have ever wanted anyone before. But perhaps that much is already clear." Given, that is, how his cock is pressing insistently against the weight of her.