Delia shuddered as he breathed her in and kissed her shoulder, "Grandeur?" her back arched up more, pressing herself further into his palms. "They look like a moth's banquet, holes, old stains, trouser fastening worn down from over use," at that moment she managed to unfasten his and slide a hand down inside, not stopping until she heard his breath catch. "I did you a favor, Irishman, by taking them off your hands. You should be thanking me."
Her head was spinning, but she loved it, Paddy knew just what to do to drive her mad under his touch. It had to be because he was so very low, so filthy, over the past year or so she only went to bed with those she thought she had something to gain from. He only had himself and an intense desire to separate her from her clothes and she found that irresistible. The hand on the back of his neck directed his head up from her shoulders, so she could kiss his lips roughly. But the roughness began to fade and once her tongue gained entrance to his mouth she was light and gentle with him, trying to make sure he would not think this was another trick.