It's good to be able to touch her without desperation clouding his senses and he takes his time, exploring the nuances of her flesh, the way her skin pulls over her ribs when she stretches over a little, the curve from waist to hip, the swell of her perfectly rounded breasts. And eventually, the hollow at the juncture of abdomen and thigh, the line of pelvic bone that runs to her centre, showing the way for his fingers as they slide between her legs.

Somewhere in the house, a door bangs and maybe there's a voice or two. He notes it almost subconsciously, unfocused on anything that isn't her. The universe outside this bedroom can wait, for now.