His cheeks flush from the pleasure of hearing it--and from the way it feels to have her lips right there--and he's fully prepared to say that he'll never get sick of those words coming out of her mouth. He slides his hands down her chest, down her abdomen, and plays with the button on her pants. "I'm good with that," he murmurs as he gently pushes her so she's lying down on the bed. He follows, lying on his side and letting his eyes travel down her body. He doesn't think he'll ever be able to get over how gorgeous she is, how unbelievably lucky he is to have met her at the train station that day, how he's even luckier that she loves him back. "All day, every day, shout it from the mountaintops kind of thing, that's what this is."

He glides his hand down between her legs, letting it linger over the fabric before bringing it back up and undoing the button, taking care of the zipper, tugging at what's just another unacceptable layer between them. He's so fucking ready, it's not even funny, and knowing that there's nothing to get in the way this time makes his heart beat all the faster because all he wants right now is to know every inch of her. Once her pants are on the floor, he traces a finger down the inside of her thigh, along the line of her underwear. "Christ." He feels nearly breathless with want, with need. "You're amazing."