Before she can even answer that, he's kissing her again. Wanda turns onto her side so she can be closer to him and reaches out to faintly curl her fingers against his collarbones. She isn't afraid to touch him, but she doesn't know where she even wishes to begin. There's so much of him exposed. Before, she used to let him dictate touch, accepting his left arm looped around hers as she covers its bulkiness by almost cuddling it to her chest.

Now… she likes holding his hand. She knows it's not something she can do outside of the four walls of their makeshift little home.

As she arches her breast into his hand, she brushes her toes against his calf and plants her palm against his shoulder, moaning softly against his mouth. She presses down against the heel of her palm as she drags her hand from his shoulder to his pectoral, sweeping her thumb across his nipple.

If she's feeling inspired, he only has himself to blame.