When he was close, she darted a hand forward, curling a finger into the belt loop of his pants to bring him closer still and she slipped a hand beneath his shirt to rest on his bare stomach.
Her palm was warm and then grew warmer, not unpleasantly so, and pleasure began to seep into his skin. It was slow at first, gentle, like a warm bath and a glass of wine, relaxing him, until it grew a bit stronger and the feel of it took aim, heading straight between his thighs: pure, unadulterated arousal, and yet somehow better. It was nothing, compared to what she could do, of course.