No need to be concerned about the mood, clearly. Everything he can read from her speaks to a quiet hunger, a desperation that is familiar by now, far more familiar than the earlier awkward attempt at a hug had been. No, this dance he knows by heart.

Her pulse thrums under her skin, warmer and warmer to the touch. Instinct leads his hands to the edges of her robes, baring her to the still air by inches. His tongue darts out to taste her again, the sweetness of her, his fingers cupping her breast, thumb rolling across a nipple peaking upwards in the soft chill.

When she gasps, he'll steal it from her lips, deepen that kiss for all he's worth.