Now the movement of a woman slipping out of her last underclothes for the benefit of her man, watching from behind her? That was a bit of dance that was as old as the very idea of wearing clothes at all. Henry had viewed the rippling form many times, and never tired of it, especially when performed with Gabriella's endearing touch of self-consciousness. He hoped that the spark in his eyes that she saw when she turned demonstrated his appreciation.
Letting Gabriella guide his hand, Henry's fingers found her warm and wet. His eyes drank in hers as he smiled wider, hunger creeping into his expression. "You're right, I haven't," he told her. "I think you'll understand if I want to take a closer look."
With that, he slid off the stool to crouch on the floor in front of Gabriella. One hand on the small of her back to steady the girl, his other hand opened her to him. Henry dipped his head and kissed her heated flesh deeply.