A soft, pleased sound escaped her, small and real. It did something to him—more than any shout, more than any oath. He felt it and met it, adjusting to her as the sea adjusts to a new shape of moon.
When her mouth drifted from his, it did not go far. The line of his jaw, the angle of his cheek, the tender place near his ear—she mapped them with quiet patience, as if aligning constellations. He tasted the pale sweetness of her breath, caught the faint wild note beneath her clean scent, something like rain just about to happen.
He did not speak it. He let it be shown in the way he drew her closer and in the way he softened, entirely, within her arms. Her lips returned to his, steadier now; they learned each other's cadence the way two dancers do when the music is new but the steps feel known.
