”Finally,” Summer whispers, rolling herself over to lie half-draped over Loki. “I thought I would never be able to touch you.” The pale canvas of his bare skin is far too tempting to resist, and immediately she begins to mark shapes on it with her nails, pale pink patterns that mean nothing save that she is allowed to touch. All the thwarted kisses are pressed into his skin now, along his pointed jaw and down the column of his neck, until she lays her head on his chest to listen to his heartbeat and just breathe.