Wanda tipped her head up just enough to see him better, and somehow, the sight of him kissing her ended up being just as potent a turn-on as the feel of it, and while she was doing what she felt was an admirable job of keeping her breathing even, it nevertheless came in heavy intakes, the rise and fall of her chest visible even to her. Her hands flowing incessantly across shoulders and arms, trying to memorize the feel of him, so different from what she was used to and yet everything she'd come to want; it wasn't nearly enough, and she brought a leg up to run her foot along the back of his thigh (her sandals having been lost somewhere along the way to the bedroom), any additional point of contact serving as a lifeline, even with their bodies pressed together that way.