Cecilia didn't want to break contact either. She wanted to be close, and touching. God, touching. She hated being touched, but Owen was most certainly the exception from that rule. It felt amazing. His hand on the nape of her neck felt almost as good as the kissing did.
Almost lazily, she draped one arm around his shoulder, wishing she would have found a better position to kiss him in. She wanted to be close. She'd resisted the temptation to climb onto his lap and for that she felt a bit proud of herself, but she couldn't pull away yet. When he spoke she laughed softly, and groaned lightly, happily, as she dropped her forehead onto his shoulder. "Regularly," she murmured. "Frequently. Constantly."