She almost says This, and just that, because otherwise it's breaking this into smaller pieces: she likes the way her feet feel running along the backs of his calves, she likes the way she can tip her head back to let him have her jaw, her throat, ever vulnerable part of her. She likes that she isn't afraid of the weight of him on her.

But then she guides his hand, shows him that if he moves his fingers just so, she will gasp and arch her back ever so slightly. She'll do that every time, more eagerly the more his touch curves to fit her.

"Like that," she whispers, her free hand kneading helplessly against his back. "Keep doing that, just like that-"