John felt the tension in her back, though she leaned against him, though she agreed. "Nothing you don't want," he said softly, and smoothed the neckline of her gown back over her shoulder, kissed her mouth.
He slipped an arm around her and led her to the bed they'd share. She'd pulled back the covers, and so he sat her on the edge. She looked so young, nervous but trusting. He wondered if she'd ever given that trust to Andrew. He ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek. "Beautiful Nana," he murmured.
John took a half-step backward. He stripped off the sweater he wore, and let it drop. He watched her watch him, and kept his movements slow and deliberate. Next were his trousers, leaving him in black boxer-briefs. His erection was prominent, clearly visible, stretching the soft material. His hands moved to the waistband of his boxers, then away, deciding to leave them on. Instead, he let his hands fall to his sides and stood there, letting her look if she wanted. She'd seen him like this, had seen him naked of course; he had little body modesty. But long months had passed since then, and while they weren't starting from the very beginning, they were starting again, and he could take it slowly for her.