Any possible reply was short-circuited by more kissing, rendering her brain incapable of formulating a response. Fine hair on her skin rose in the wake of his fingers, and Summer squeaked, softly, low in her throat. A few freckles and faint scars slipped under his rising fingertips.
“Can…can I…?” He faltered shyly, cheeks colouring scarlet as his hands stilled their movements, eyes darting up to hers as he sought out both permission and approval. He longed to explore her body like she had with his moments before.
Slightly breathless, she teased, “No, I was going to just make you stare, like a museum.” Taking one of his hands, she pulled it up across her skin slowly.