A light laugh bursts out of her as he picks her up again, her lips pulled into a wide grin for a second. "It's funny, it's as if you've read mind," she says with an equally light, and unintentionally smug, tone.

Then he lays her down on her robe - "Clever," she murmurs, mostly at how deftly he tossed it onto the ground for it to be used as a blanket at all - and she lets him go to lean back on her elbows.

She's staring. There's open heat in her gaze, when she looks at his expressio, when she watches him pull his shirt off with those clever hands of his, when all that skin is bare. It's almost too much - he's almost painfully beautiful, the sort that means she should make them pause and compose him a sonnet - but she doesn't pause for too long.

With his shirt off, she pushes herself up to sit and to drop a kiss to his collarbone just as he reaches for her trousers.

"I'm going to give it to you," she murmurs against his skin, reaching for his trousers too. "You have good ideas."