Éowyn took great delight in the little game she and her husband used to play.
When they retired to their chambers Faramir always picked some random volume and pretended to read it. She sat down next to him with her hands folded demurely in her lap, counting slowly to ten before sneaking her fingers to the first button of his tunic.
The slightest intake of breath was enough reward to her as she finally ran her palm over his smooth chest and showed him exactly what she wanted.
She'd never been backward in coming forward, not even in her childhood.