[ she tracks the way his gaze drops to her mouth, to her eyes, to her bed behind him; pleasure lances down her spine like a lightning flash, there and gone again as she curls her fingers into the material of his sweater. often, she wonders at the ease with which her body responds to him—how a simple touch is enough to leave a lingering warmth in its wake, how every glance feels like a physical caress. now, as she stands pressed up against him, sharing his warmth and his breath, she thinks she knows the answer.

even if she did have plans, she'd much rather stay in bed with him anyway. but she shakes her head with an amused huff, close to a giggle if she were the type to do so. ]

... Earlier, I had thought about giving you the gift myself, but I wasn't sure if you'd be busy. I'd assumed I wouldn't be able to see you today.

[ so she had the staff deliver it instead. she feels oddly—not quite shy, but perhaps a little tentative, finding her gaze straying to the collar of his shirt instead. ]

But it seems my wish has been granted anyway.