[ A sigh escapes him, bursting past his lips as he arches up into the mouth skimming its way over his chest. ]

I could say the same about you.

[ With them aligned to share a lazy, easy rut, he runs his hands up Molly's sides to gather up that shirt but not quite remove it, loving seeing him draped in his clothes and eager to touch. It's impossible not to run his hands over all that at unseen skin, feeling out scars and smooth swathes from hip to armpit. ]

We keep skipping the date and hopping straight into bed ... Are we useless or just impatient, do you think?