Apologies, Xan, but there was no denying that whimper. Hyacinthe was far too pleased by it to pretend it didn't happen--though the rough kiss was an excellent distraction, 'twas true.

He kissed her back, hands settling on her waist, then slowly pushing up her shirt enough to rest upon her skin. He still kept them low, hovering just over the waistband of her pants, but he could still appreciate her warmth of her soft skin under the roughness of his palms.