It was much better without his coat in the way, the thick material far too much of a barrier when all she wanted to do was touch him. Her hands traced along his undershirt, over the toned muscle of his abdomen and around to his sides. One hand stayed there at his waist while the other continued to his back, her nails scratching gently at him through the fabric and even ghosting across the sensitive cartilage over his spine.

He was doing such wonderful things already with his lips and hands, and everything was still so innocent. But with anticipation and a long-felt desperation rising within her, every touch was almost electric with the way her skin reacted. She couldn't stop a quiet moan from forming at the back of her throat.