It's at once relieving and maddening, satisfying and serving only to make him want more. The sensation is far from unfamiliar, but Eames revels in it even so as he holds her against him, free hand pressing to her back, over the skin left exposed by her dress. He wants to touch everything, to put his hands on every inch of her, to learn her physically in ways he hasn't yet managed to intellectually. There's something to be said, though, for not rushing, and something to be said for a good kiss, too, of which this certainly is one. They have time. Hell, as far as he's concerned, they have all night, and he means to make the most of that.