Kiss him like this is heavenly, almost made more intoxicating, more pleasurable, just more because of the time spent away without him.

Almost.

She'd been a fool, not to beg forgiveness before now. She's missed him, she's missed him, and she's missed this. His hands on her, his mouth under hers, the sheer heat of him against her body. Of knowing that she did all this to him not because she's just a pretty girl, the oh so delectable Kate Kelly, but because he, Benedict, loves her. Loves her. Respects her. Needs her. Wants her.

So Kate kisses him and kisses him, and shifts in his lap so she can press herself even closer. Her knees on the floor, she can move until there's nothing between them and it's not enough, not nearly close enough. She wants, she wants -

She breaks off kissing his mouth only to kiss his face and then duck down, kiss his neck. Kiss everywhere she can.