His senses are normally heightened, but in the case of the blazing sun having beat down on him while he had wandered the road, his skin is extra sensitive in this moment. When her hand brushes his nipple, he groans against her throat - wanting, eager.

It is as if he knows how to allow his hands to slide over her body, as if he has already done this dozens of times, her form so very familiar to his muscle memory.

One of his hands shifts to her knee, sliding under the linen of her kilt to trace patterns on the top of her thigh as he moves his mouth back to meet hers.