It does feel rather as though they are on the precipice of something, dangling, twisting, waiting for the breeze to shift and either force them to withdraw or let them tumble headlong over the edge, and when he turns to her, reaches for her, she finds herself inclining in his direction without a second thought, knees nudging his beneath the long fall of her dress.

The sensation of his hand sliding across her waist elicits a light gasp mere moments before his mouth finds hers and she's drawn in by heat, warmth, the promise of more with that blatant, bluntly-edged nip of teeth against the fullness of her lower lip that practically has her veering after him to seek further kisses along those lines.

"I remember," she murmurs, her eyes having shuttered closed, but now she opens them to find his impossibly close to her own, clear and inquiring, and when she lifts her hand to gently stroke her fingers across the side of his face her assent is clear long before she gives him the words that make it plain. "Show me what you're capable of."