He reached out slowly.
His hand found the side of her chest through the silk, his palm pressing against the full weight of her boob, and the warmth of her came through the fabric immediately, the specific warmth of something alive and present and entirely real in his hand.
She exhaled.
Not dramatically. Just the small honest exhale of someone receiving contact they had been thinking about and finding it exactly what they expected.
He pressed his palm slightly firmer, feeling the weight of it shift in his hand, the softness of it specific and immediate through the thin silk, and she looked at him from close range with her eyes carrying the specific quality they had when she had stopped thinking about anything except exactly where she was.
"Mm," she said.
He moved his hand slowly, spreading his palm across the full shape of it, his thumb finding the outline of her nipple through the fabric and pressing lightly.
Her back straightened slightly.
