[ If she wasn't so distracted, she wouldn't hesitate to ask him what that means specifically, what that want of his extends to; she would try to understand how they should define themselves and what they need from each other. She would try to come to an agreement of what this is, but—
The fire sparks low in her gut, and a rush of heat, of that need to touch every last inch of him fuels in her blood, because his skin is against hers, his eyes trained on her and nothing else, and has he ever looked quite so gorgeous, quite so irresistible? His fingers trail over her bared skin, and suddenly, that's not enough. He's touching her, but she wants more of his hands, more of him, and that involves more contact.
That heat fogging her mind is past the point of careful consideration, and before she can stop herself, before she can think anything about it, she's using that grip she has on Peter's hair to drag him in for a kiss.
Whether the flush that runs through her is from the fever or from the kiss, she doesn't care enough to know; right now, all she can focus on is that intense rush of adrenaline, of want and need and things she doesn't have a name for beyond zeroing in on Peter and every point of contact she can find.
Restraint? Oh, that's gone out the window, and the sound dredged up from her over-warm throat to breathe against his lips is absolutely a moan. ]
no subject
The fire sparks low in her gut, and a rush of heat, of that need to touch every last inch of him fuels in her blood, because his skin is against hers, his eyes trained on her and nothing else, and has he ever looked quite so gorgeous, quite so irresistible? His fingers trail over her bared skin, and suddenly, that's not enough. He's touching her, but she wants more of his hands, more of him, and that involves more contact.
That heat fogging her mind is past the point of careful consideration, and before she can stop herself, before she can think anything about it, she's using that grip she has on Peter's hair to drag him in for a kiss.
Whether the flush that runs through her is from the fever or from the kiss, she doesn't care enough to know; right now, all she can focus on is that intense rush of adrenaline, of want and need and things she doesn't have a name for beyond zeroing in on Peter and every point of contact she can find.
Restraint? Oh, that's gone out the window, and the sound dredged up from her over-warm throat to breathe against his lips is absolutely a moan. ]