The clasp came undone before his face, and he almost broke then from a strange combination of desire to see her naked and his natural fussiness that didn't like to see clothing left hanging unfastened. In fact, one hand did let go of the bench and began reaching out to her - but he stopped himself in time, moving to adjust his glasses as if that had been the intention all along before grabbing ahold of the bench again.
And then she was in his lap, drawing a shallow, shaky breath while his body practically trembled with the effort to hold himself still. Thoughts came to him unbidden... Maddening trollop, why don't you cast a binding charm to hold me to this bloody bench...
The brassiere was now gone, but he was denied the view, and bit down on his tongue to keep from ordering her to turn around.