His head dipped down, and he was at her throat, kissing her, memorizing the curve of her lines and the way her skin tasted against his lips. And as he moved from her throat to her ear, he broke away again and found her mouth.
Passion poured forth, her curves feeling divine against him as he plundered her mouth again. He could snog like this for hours upon hours; she was all that he had ever dreamed of, and now he held her, in his arms. And every part of her encouraged and welcomed him and his advances. He knew, somewhere in the fog of his brain, that he should stop.
He pulled back again, now visibly panting, his chest rising and falling hard, "I don't want to make you go too fast," he whispered hoarsely, even as he held her tight against him, their bodies only separated by thin stretchy fabric. He was certain she could feel every inch of him pressing against her, and he could feel her heat. It made him groan even as he shifted more to press against her again.
"Merlin," he whispered again, his voice dripping with his passion for her.