They could make it work. They could make anything work. Pretty much, anyway. Clint should remember--or know--that Kate was used to college boys. College boys who didn't know what they were doing, pawed at her inexpertly, got themselves off as quickly as they could. Half the time she didn't finish. So far? Clint was way ahead of any experience she'd ever had.
She gave a gentle whimper when he marked the sensitive skin of her neck, and then grinned, turning to nuzzle her face into the side of his. Her hips pushed down against his, rocking against him, the rhythm they might take were there not so many layers of clothes in the way.