He's glad there's no anger but he's also aware that if she protested the gesture that Cassandra would have made it known, either by pulling away or pushing him back. And at the moment she advances, the Witcher is smiling against her lips until he loses himself all over again.

But this time, the other hand begins to wander, up her arm to her shoulder and then across her collarbone as fingers drift inwards over bare skin. As the passion mounts, he slowly lowers her back until she's laying in the grass.

A moment later nimble fingers work to undo the buttons on her blouse, one at a time.