Alice's breath came in shortened, soft gasps as Victor's hands slipped around her neck and down her back. She'd never been touched like this before. And she wanted to be touched more, and in different places - and oh, it was all so strange and new and wonderful. She just wanted more and more; it was like her Uncle Richard and alcohol. Once he started, he couldn't stop, and she wasn't even wanting to struggle for restraint. The feeling of him beneath her, as she slid her hands down to his shoulders and to his chest. Her hands stayed there, fingers gripping his shirt ever so slightly. His chest was firm and she rolled a button between her fingers as he pulled away with a more serious expression. Her heart sank. Had he forgotten that she was his prisoner?

But his words were different from that of scolding or rejection. They were caring. Her hands drifted down to her lap, back to sitting sideways on him. She thought for a moment, before glancing back at him as he brushed a piece of hair out of her face. He was suggesting that her sleeping with him might lead her to hating him. She bit her lip for a moment before speaking again. Her body was flooded with lust for him, and it certainly made thinking clearly a little difficult. "That's the trouble," she whispered, hands coming back to either side of his rough face. "They're dreaming of me. But I'm not dreaming of them." She looked into his eyes before leaning forward. "I am not sure that I am ready for all that. But I want..." 

Frustrated with feeling like she couldn't put the feeling into words, she kissed him again, hands travelling up to his bun and pulling it out. She hadn't really seen him without his hair up before. She ran her hands through it, drawing away from Victor again. Alice was unsure of how he would react to her admissions and actions, but how else could she explain what was running through her veins?