"I haven't found anything I don't like, yet," he admitted, brushing the tip of his finger along the slope of her neck, brushing the long strands of her hair from her shoulder, which was freckled from the sun.

"But, yes. I like this," he murmured, squeezing her hip, his other hand sliding down her chest, between the valley of her breasts, touching her for the simple pleasure of knowing that he could.