[The towel falls away easily, Conrad's hips lifting to facilitate its removal. He only wore it because one never knows Diva's mood until one sees it, and being presumptuous backfired more often than not.]
[His arms slip around her, gently guiding her close. Of course, she may touch as she wishes. He is hers, after all. And he will hopefully be permitted to do the same, but for now he limits himself to small tastes of her soft skin: shoulder, neck, the perfect corner of her mouth.]