"Then whoever designed it for you failed miserably," she murmurs appreciatively, leaning back to watch him undress for a moment before she's back to kissing along his neck.

When his hands return to her body, she reaches down to once again, guide one of them up to her breast. This time, however, he will not find layers of fabric or a bodice in his way, just a simple silk nightgown, one whose fabric is laughably thin and should leave close to nothing to his imagination.