Turnabout was fair play, after all. She could almost feel the faint flush she had, though it was little about embarrassment and more about the sensation, the heat creeping up the back of her neck. His eyes were on her, she knew, just as hers had been on him. That alone almost made her squirm with anticipation. With a quiet exhale, she attempted to keep herself from arching into his hands, and when she opened her eyes, they were half-lidded and focused on him alone.

She needed to do something. To reciprocate, to distract him, anything. She couldn't keep still, not with him doing that to her. She contented herself with settling her hands on his shoulders once more, watching him dote and appreciate her.