This clothes thing, it's the worst. Who came up with all of this? Even down to the bare minimum publicly acceptable layers, Lee still has too much on. She needs to get this off now (why did she wear jeans? Why didn't she wear a dress?) but the urgency gets muddled as she forgets about all of that because he is touching her, and now she wants more of that instead. She wants everything all at once and feels awkward and ungainly, like all her limbs are twelve feet long and don't bend in the right directions, what is she even doing with them? If she doesn't relax, then she's going to panic and freeze and she won't be able to do this and he's going to think she hates him and doesn't want him to touch her and then he'll leave and she won't know what to do.
Slow down. He isn't going to disappear.
Okay. Lee puts her hands on his bare shoulders, her fingers curling over the muscle there. Her nails are short again, she must have been biting them all week long. She tries to relax, takes deep, shaky breaths, and tries to focus her mind on just this - his hand on her chest, skin on skin, touching her places no one has ever touched her before, at least not as an adult, and never like this. Her hands move up to his jaw, which she cups and tilts his face up so she can kiss him again. This is familiar, it anchors her, they do this all the time, kissing with no particular goal in mind. She thinks about right now, not five minutes from now, it's not a race, neither of them is going to die if they can't do it immediately. She calms down.