In similar fashion he reaches down, hooking his fingers into the falling fabric and tossing it behind them, and it almost seems a careless movement. But he bears its presence in the back of his mind, the same as he minds her bare skin against the stone, careful when he rocks up against her.

Pressure riding up between her thighs, proof she's wanted as much as she wants. A taste, the pinch of fingers a tease, as he nips the edge of her lower lip.

Not drawing back because he needs the breath himself, but she certainly might.