It's perfect, she thinks. Then again, anything he gave her would be everything she wants, in this moment-- she wants him more than anything else, any way she can have him. In a quieter moment she'll worry again, but not right now. (In a quieter moment, she knows, she's going to have to ask.)

He gets a kick out of her little noises, she can tell, so she doesn't hold back; she lets herself whine as she chases his kiss, her hands restless, sliding over his wet shoulders, raking nails lightly through his chest hair. Her back arches, shoulders pressed against the tiles, her breathing a little ragged.