Hermione came to him then—his eyes roved over her figure, over every spot he aimed to mark, to bite, to fill. Anticipation wound inside him like a coil. She stood before him, so close his erection grazed against her front and her chest was a whisper away from his. She looked up into his face and he found himself instinctually leaning forward for a kiss but she turned her head, rejecting it so that his nose trailed along her cheekbone. 