There was another of those small sounds, enough that he found himself voicing a deeper echo of it, too quick and breathless to be a moan. He felt just a little dizzy, and it had nothing to do with the ale or brandy. His name in that tone had his grip on her tightening, the hand in her hair dropping down to clutch across the back of her shoulder.

"If you want me to slow down or stop, tell me," he breathed. He had no plan, no idea where they were going with this other than the fact he felt more heated by the moment. He knew that at some point one or both of them would hit a place where they needed to decide whether to stop or go further.