It still astounded him, how easily she came to him, how comfortable she was touching him. It was how he imagined things on the rare occasion he allowed himself such indulgences, but that was fantasy. He couldn't have pictured what it would feel like if it were real.
He couldn't have pictured her wanting this as much as he did, or wanting him, someone who'd never felt particularly special or accomplished, in the way that he'd wanted her. She was beauty and grace. She was the Jedi who brought down a dangerous smuggling ring almost single-handedly when she was barely more than a Padawan.
She was the Padawan a Master wanted to train.
She'd told him once that he was a disgrace and he'd thought the reason it had hurt so much was because it was true. But that wasn't why.
But he could feel what she felt in his arms. The warmth, the desire, the fondness. He couldn't dispute that it was there, even if he didn't understand why. So he sank into it, instead. Let himself be wrapped in it. He let the kiss break long enough to gasp for breath against her mouth, then sought another one.