She moaned again, lower this time and muffled against his mouth, his tongue. How the hell was this the same man who had seemed terrified to touch her, even innocently, only days ago?

Wanda wouldn't have been able to speak even if she tried; there wasn't a single word left in her head. There was nothing in her but sensations and needs, like the one for further contact that sent her hand down to tug at the edge of his shirt, to roam against the skin at his lower back.