Fingers moving to brush through her hair, returning that kiss, smiling against her lips. Her fire was addicting, their squabbles actually pretty comfortable and fun. She never gave up, and it was something he adored about her. But he also loved when she did let this softer side out, these hints of vulnerability. Because it meant she trusted him, and it was a gift, and he knew it.

"We can take it whatever pace we want." And it was indeed a we. Spoken against her mouth, reaching one hand to twine his fingers with hers and holding her hand. Taking a breath, for courage or for patience or both maybe--and he stepped back. Still holding her hand, their fingers twined.

Flushed and red from nerves and desire, letting her look. Letting himself look, and still finding her beautiful. Feminine grace and agility and strength, her hair like a river of fire as it flowed over and around her.