"You realise you have the patience of a saint?" Selina quirked an eyebrow, her voice low - a tinge of wanting in her tone.
It was involuntary, she couldn't help herself. The feel of his thumb across her cheek, the touch of his lips on her forehead lingered longer than any slap or punch she might receive as Catwoman. It was a different sort of pain and when it came to Bruce she was a masochist, all she wanted was more even if the ache inside of her was overwhelming. Now the room was quiet again, only the crackle of the record player kept her attention focused as she stood close to him. Too close. Selina's breath hitched in her throat as she went to speak, finding herself lost for words. Instead she moved up against him placing a hand on his lapel and rubbing it through her fingers.
This was how it should be. No more shadows or lurking on rooftops. But there was an excitement there she couldn't replicate with him. Selina pushed the thought to the back of her head as her fingers traced over his suit, running the fingers of her other hand down his jaw line committing him to her memory. Maybe it was the champagne, maybe it was the fact that she hadn't locked eyes on him in months, maybe it was the music and this room and how he smelt - warm and musky. She didn't know, but all she wanted in this moment was to feel like he might need her, if only for a second.
"I missed you Mr Wayne." Selina looked back into his eyes intently, her lips parted.