She gasped.
“Sweet, sweet Sylvia,” he murmured. He urged her to sit up, grasped the hem of her gown, now bunched at her waist, and lifted.
“Wha— what are you doing?” She pushed down on his hands, leaving the gown at her waist.
He knelt beside her, resting his weight on his palms. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it after emitting only a small sigh. He cradled her face in his hands. “I want to see you. I want to touch you. All of you.” He kissed her mouth, each eyelid, even the tip of her nose. “I want to feel your soft, warm skin next to mine. Will you let me do that?”
He was asking permission? Her mouth fell open. He stayed motionless, his eyes on her face, waiting for her answer. He would let her say no.
She grabbed her gown and yanked it up, over her head, and tossed it to t
