Skwisgaar murmured out something that was neither a moan or a purr, but close. It was far too mellow for either. His fingers traced back down her arm and he tossed the unfinished cigarette into the fire before slipping closer to her, sighing out the last of the smoke, before tracing one fingernail up from her chest, over her neck, and to her chin, where he led her into a kiss. It was slow and lasting and not too deep, with his eyes closed and the sound of his heartbeat in his ears.
She was soft and warm - a strange opposition to how she tended to try and portray herself at first - and he enjoyed every minute she dropped that mask. Her lips were smooth and delicate against his, and her skin felt so much like rose petals that it was hard to differentiate in his mind. He hadn't completely forgotten about his plan to get music playing (Nothing was complete without it, after all), but he was perfectly at ease right then, and didn't want to move from her side. In his mind, he was still trying to win her over. He wouldn't stop thinking that he had to until she outright said so.