Maryanne held on to her lip, all the while he examined her, more to keep herself from begging him to kiss her, to touch her again, than anything else. She hadn't been nervous when talking to him about it, hell she hadn't been until the context had changed. Sure, they had flirted, him giving as good as he got, and with as powerful as words were, they were still words, typed words. But context changed, and now she stood in front of him the thinnest strips of cloth keeping her from being naked, and what he thought of her suddenly mattered more than she had expected. And she was suddenly very glad that she had taken the time to pamper herself, with hair removal, lotion and lightly scented perfume, before making her way down to meet him.
That devilish smile made her knees weak, so she was very glad when he closed the distance again. She easily released her lip when he encouraged it free, smiling at him when he did. The unexpected complement caused her jaw to drop, and for her to suck in a soft gasp. And that second kiss was like a lightening strike. She was dazzled by it enough that it took a moment before she eased her arms around him, under that unbuttoned waistcoat and coat, along the back of his shirt. Somewhere in the Alexander fog she noticed that she didn't feel buttons on the front of his shirt, as she pressed against him. She hadn't noticed as he had checked her out.
The wild thought didn't keep her from slowly inching the back of his shirt out of his pants. Once that bit of his shirt was free, she did a little bit of exploring of her own. Her fingers slipping between the band of is pants and his skin, just to see if Revolutionary era men wore nothing beneath their pants, like their women. And because she wanted to touch that attractive posterior.