She savors the touch, keeping her eyes focused on him. She can tell by the tone of his voice that there's more going through his mind than simple appreciation for a packed lunch.

"What for?" she whispers, her other hand moving along the arm still at her waist. When she leaves the hem of his cuff, she hits skin before his glove begins, her tender fingers slipping beneath the material. She wishes she had her own gloves off, to feel the reassurance of skin on skin.