Revulsion and desire swirl within her when Gideon moans like that, the wet and too-hot feeling of her cav's mouth on hers, the vibration of the sound. She responds by twisting her fingers in Gideon's hair again, her free hand skimming over the thin stuff of Gideon's shirt, mapping the firm curve of her bicep, the lean muscle of her side, the hard plane of her belly.

It's both fumbling and unthinkingly calculated, avoiding--as she always does--the swell of Gideon's tits. She's learned how to touch, if slowly, and how to manage it, but some places are still beyond her.