For a moment he just looked at her, gaze moving over her - up over the swell of her hips, her belly, her breasts, the graceful curve of her collarbones. He had seen women naked before, of course, but those had been images, and of course it wasn't the same. And he hadn't known them. Hadn't cared about them.

Then it occurred to him, as if he hadn't thought of it before, that he was allowed to touch her, and he slid his hands slowly up her waist, hesitating for a moment or two before he closed his palms over her breasts.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, and leaned in to press a slow kiss against her breastbone.