After a soft bite into her plump rosy bottom lip, she looked down the line of his body, already mentally undressing him in her mind. She could picture the lines of his stomach that stretched into a strong chest and broad shoulders. It was his body that she needed to feel pressed against hers, bare, sweaty skin writhing and rubbing against each other. The thought had a large knot forming in her throat that she had trouble swallowing and breathing around. This one, she realized, was supposed to be there. As her eyes devoured him, she noticed something that reminded her this wasn't just about lust, and that was his lack of gloves. She had never seen him without them before.
Curiously, she reached over and took his left hand with her right one and raised it. It was like staring at a picture and knowing something was missing but taking a few minutes to realize it was the large building that was usually in the middle. That's what it was when she realized he had no fingernails. Of all the reasons she could think of for why he wore gloves, she hadn't expected this to be one of them. However, it didn't put her off in any way. Instead of stepping away, she raised his hand a little higher and kissed the pad of his pointer finger.
Once she opened her eyes though, she leaned in and let his hand drop to her waist. There was no waiting for an invitation. She wouldn't wait for him to tell her it was okay. Waiting for that may have her waiting far too long. This kiss was just as heated as the first, if not moreso. Her mouth pressed against his, the tip of her tongue used to part his lips to deepen the kiss.