I shudder - and it's not even a shudder, really, as I sense him moving to stand behind me. A shudder implies revulsion, fear, and I'm not feeling any of those, even though my shoulders tense slightly, first at the brush of knuckles against the back of his neck and then at the light pressure of fingertips against my hips, slowly slipping under the sides of the dress to touch bare skin. It's more of a shiver, a response of anticipation, my body more than reactive to even the slightest touch from him. It takes every single ounce of self-restraint left not to practically melt back into him when he kisses the back of my neck, though for a minute, it seems entirely possible.

I'll settle for this, though, circling slowly without taking a step back, keeping myself here and present in his space, and I'm smiling, but I can't quite tell what the emotion is behind it as I rise up on tiptoe towards him, my hand cupping his face in the dark as I kiss him softly, briefly. "Thank you," I whisper, turning away before the temptation rises to an all-time high and starting to search for my heels, my hand drifting down his arm to briefly tangle fingers with his before moving to pull away altogether.