Even though she was returning the kiss, Wes could feel the hesitation, the uncertainty in her, and he reminded himself again that she was wholly inexperienced. And, apparently, she had no instincts or no courage to follow whatever instincts she did have. He could work with that, he rather thought. There was something scintillating about the idea of being the one to teach her, of her learning only what he liked and what she liked for him to do to her.
His fingers stroked from her shoulders down her bare arms, wrapping around her wrists and lifting them to his chest, all while his lips moved against hers. He would stop and direct her verbally, if she needed it, but he was hoping to see her respond to nonverbal cues.
Hands moving back to grip her hips, Wes hummed against her lips, his tongue flicking out, testing and teasing, seeing if she would allow him entrance.