She can't help the way she leans into his touch, a pleased little hum escaping her lips. One of her own hands rests lightly over his other one, fingers gliding up and down his arm aimlessly for a few moments before shifting to his back to pull him in just a little closer.

She needs him to fill her senses; to overwhelm herself with his presence so she forgets about where he's kissing, how that scar came to be there. It's the only way she'll manage to keep her breathing anything like steady-- or, at least, as steady as it can be while shirtless with the person you love.