[He sits back as she pushes him, wondering how far she'll take this little game of hers. To take the upper hand there would probably be easy, but Oliver decides to let her lead this strange dance. Perhaps that way, she will more comfortable if she is in control.
He barely leans backwards as she moves to kiss him, if only to bring her closer to him. When she pulls away in a teasing gesture, the archer is not surprised and there's a hint of a smirk on his lips. Carefully, without touching her, he gently pulls on the towel she's wearing, not to take it off, but to simply sink down the rest of her body so that she's resting upwards in front of him, slightly between his knees. Angling his head, he leans forward and whispers in her ear]
I'd wonder why you torture both of us by denying yourself something you want...
[His hands leave the towel to rest by his side, but he lowers his head closer to the junction between her neck and shoulder. He's close enough to feel the warmth of her skin, to smell her perfume despite the chlorine in the water, but he still doesn't touch her.]