Her mouth was soft, and sweet, and he let it distract him for a while. Let his fingers explore the silken feel of her body. "You are beautiful. The tonic doesn't change that..." His lips found the curve of her jaw. The pulse at her throat.
"You're gorgeous every day. More every time I see you..." George lifted his head and looked at her and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Maybe a little more flexible after the tonic, but still you."
She was always lovely to him. Maybe it was the way she held herself. Or her humour. The care she took of herself. The silk of her clothes, the scent of her hair...
And he was hers. Part of him, anyway. The parts nobody got, nobody understood, like how she knew that sometimes the sadness simply overwhelmed him and there wasn't anything he could do to fight it except be, be held, be kissed, be loved, lose himself in her until it went away. She never asked, never pestered, simply was...
He pulled her against him, silken skin against his stomach, soft breasts to his chest, and kissed her again. "You're beautiful," he whispered against her lips, shifting and pulling her more snugly against him. "You make me crazy, sometimes, wanting you. Thinking about you." He didn't know about decadent, but he could certainly show her how he wanted her. It was pressed against her thigh, his want was.
His hands wandered her skin, reacquainting himself with this younger woman.