Harry was glad she hadn't Apparated; he didn't really want to skip the steps of this. Literally, in this case - the part that involved walking. It wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world, trying to kiss her and keep his hold on her as they moved towards the bedroom. He felt sure he was about to step on her feet, but his attempts to keep a hold on her meant that his hands were moving on her skin and on her shirt, and he wasn't complaining about that, at all.
He gave a breathless laugh at the idea that she might seem too impatient, and almost stumbled, but caught himself on the door jamb. "I'd have forgiven you," he said, as they reached the edge of the bed. Then he was kissing her again, hands sliding under her shirt purposefully this time, palms and fingertips moving warmly over her hips, her sides, brushing against the cloth of her bra where it lay over her ribs. He'd touched her before, but this felt different, fueled by a heat inside him that hadn't quite been there before, possibly because he'd been holding it back. He wasn't going to hold back now.