She bit at his lower lip, body pushing back against his - not to move him away, but to egg him on still. Poke the bear. She felt his hand in her hair, the other on her hip and she hummed out a moan, her own hands tugging him closer by his shirt, twisting up the fabric as though she could imagine it away.

Did she want to imagine it away? She wasn't sure, but she was sure that the way his body felt, hard and hot and hungry against hers was pushing all sorts of buttons for her. Damn.