Sam is quiet for a minute, and though the soft movement of her fingers doesn't stop, it slows a little, and her hand slips lower along his neck and shoulder. "It's not a matter of not wanting," she says, not-quite stumbling over the words. "Because I do." Even now, in this clumsy moment, she's still responding to the feel of his skin against hers, his breath against her skin and the feel of his body under her hands, and there's a part of her that wants to just push right through this and screw the consequences.