Liz goes more than willingly, winding her arms around his neck. Her eyes fall to half mast, heavy-lidded, under the light touch of his hand; her chest rises and falls more quickly against his.

Her mouth is curved upward, unguarded; she can be impetuous and impatient, but this is worth the wait. She turns her head to press her small smile against his neck and plant a couple of kisses there, slow and warm, her thumb tracing meaningless patterns into the back of his neck.