His voice, warm like woodsmoke, wisps over her in tempting tendrils and burns away higher reasoning.
"You're breaking tradition." Her hand reaches back to brush his cheek, and she feels him turn his nose to her palm, kissing lightly there as he breathes her in.
"The weather was disobliging," he murmurs, catching the tip of a finger in his teeth. "And I did not wish to wait."
Little cotton candy waves of longing pulse through her at the feel of lips, teeth, and tongue as he speaks. And when he sucks that finger into his mouth, Kagome nearly falls apart.
