He is correct, had she any protests over his actions she would have made it quite clear. As she’s making it absolutely clear that it is rather the opposite. His advances are more than welcome, and reciprocated.

She feels him against her lips and smiles in return, pressing close and reaching up to tangle her fingers in his hair. Kissing him as though she needs him to breath. And so perhaps she does, as breathless as she is, as breathless as he makes her. Losing herself in his kiss.

Anticipation and desire shiver through her as he lowers her back against the grass and she cannot help the soft little needy sound she makes against his mouth. Pelor, how she wants him. Needs him. As his fingers work at her buttons her own tug as his tunic, working to get him out of it, her fingers brushing against his skin. She only stops touching him long enough to slip out of her own blouse once he’s undone buttons enough for her to do so.