His response was everything she hoped for. When his hands slid to her shoulders, it felt as if she'd surfaced from a long and dangerous dive, lungs burning, relief clouding over everything else. Her left hand snaked to his waist, and she slid her hand under his shirt, straight against his cooling skin. The muscles she felt there were just as she remembered, taut and perfect. Her other hand threaded into his still-damp hair.
She loved his strength, and his nobility, and his willingness to help others. She loved his humor, and his tenderness, and his fearlessness. She loved his protective streak, and his singular scent, and his ability to pull off a leather jacket even in the summer. But right now, she loved that he could accept her passion and return it just as hotly. It had been so, so long since she'd been set alight.
She had to take a breath, but she didn't want to. So she didn't, and she didn't, snd she didn't, until her survival instinct made her jerk away from him and suck air into her lungs. She didn't stay gone for more than two seconds. Her arms went around him - seemed he may have reached for her in the same moment - and she gasped for the breath she'd given up to kiss him.
Evey was crying. She realized it when she realized that the keening was actually her. She turned her face into his shoulder to muffle the sound, because it didn't seem to obey her will.