He felt more than a little exposed, though that had nothing to do with what she was or wasn't wearing. Against the chair, his sensory pits could pick out every detail - everyone that had sat here, what they'd had to drink - but none of it mattered. Every one of his senses honed in on Vanessa.

The reaction wasn't very grand, but it was telling. His lips parted, inhaling a bit more sharply than before, and his thighs tensed, toes curling against the carpet. What she was doing was fine - trying to go in after it would be painful, and unwise. To encourage her, though, he tilted his hips, keeping friction against her palm. Trying to do that without looking desperate probably wasn't possible.