Without thinking, Ben released her waist the minute she shifted and only settled his big hands at her hips again once she had settled into a comfortable position atop him. He grinned, feeling her teeth on his lower lip, and squeezed his hands down on her. His strong fingers pressed into her slim hips very nearly to the point of discomfort. The grip eased almost immediately; he wasn't about to leave bruises, after all.
He drew back from her mouth after long moments longer and almost immediately missed the taste of her, the softness of her lips and the quick cleverness of her tongue. Ben grinned, though. "So does this mean I get to tell you whenever I think you look hot?" he asks, pure cheeky bastard.