More than anything

She could point out that all of the dresses she's made since she arrived here have pockets. Goodness knows why it isn't more common; skirts give you far more potential pocket space to work with than trousers ever could. But she's far more interested in the breathless quality of his laugh, and the flush creeping across his cheeks, and what she might do to increase both of those things.

"Well," she ventures, one hand sliding up his arm and over his shoulder before curling around the back of his neck, "I don't know how much creativity is really necessary." She leans up as if to kiss him, but pauses a scant inch or so from her goal. "You might just take them off."

Then she kisses him, the tip of her tongue caressing the tender skin just inside his lower lip as her other hand works its way between them, palming him through the fabric of his own trousers.