Feeling his upwelling of nerves, Summer put her hands over his after he took the chain mail off. “This is — you don’t have to — ” She looked up, trying to hold his gaze. “Mordred.” God, his eyes were so beautiful. Very steadily, holding tightly to her own fears so they didn’t show, she said, “Please don’t do anything you don’t want to do. I just wanted you to take off the chain mail.”
Mordred nodded, removing his hands, his shirt half open but he didn’t mind. “I don’t mind,” he tells her honestly, looking back up at her as he allowed his fingers to intertwine themselves with her own. “But as you wish,” Mordred says with a smile.
She lifted his hands to her mouth and kissed his fingertips, locking their fingers to attend to each of his fingertips individually. “You have beautiful hands,” she murmured, kissing his palms and then his wrists. “Strong. Powerful.”