God, that felt so good. And he was tired of denying himself good things. Of dwelling in all the bad. If she wanted him, that would be good enough. He didn't fancy an all physical thing, not really, but even if she didn't care for him there was at least friendship and that was enough of an anchor for him right now. He wanted and needed that connection, that desire, and the validation that he was worth it right now. It might not last, and he would have to live with that later, but not right now.
It was his insecurities, and he was silencing them with her kisses.
There was that very masculine sound of approval as her shirt was removed. Again he got only a glimpse of the pretty brassiere before her lips were on his again, but he told himself he was definitely going to have more fun with those pretty breasts of hers when he got a moment. "Pretty," he breathed into her ear, all huskiness, when he broke the kiss in order to get a breath a moment later, and his hands came up to find her breasts then, squeezing appreciatively through the bra.
And then his hands were moving behind her, to find the clasp, his right hand fumbling but more secure using it than the left, though a lot of that self consciousness had faded simply because he wasn't thinking about it right now.