Anakin’s almost giggle was back, but throatier this time so there was no cause for the Jedi to be embarrassed. His eyes made an effort to light up with laughter, but they also refused to let go of that glow-y, hazy look of contentment that too much expression would expel. He wanted to bask longer in this happy state.
“My partner used to give me more time to prepare,” he countered.
Her finger on his chest was aggravatingly stimulating when all he had energy for was to lie in Padmé’s arms. But two could play that game. He started with brushing her hair off her shoulder, and then his fingers brushed along her soft skin, the barest of touches down the length of her arm and then back up.