"I suppose it does," says Jerry, all teasingly innocent, his hand sliding higher once she's started drawing her slip up so he can help tug it off her entirely. It's certainly not doing any good where it is, and even if it were, he'd be hard-pressed to ignore a suggestion like that at a time like this. Even without intending to hurry, he can't think of a single good reason why she should stay dressed if she doesn't want to be. She's beautiful, warm beneath him, all his, the latter of which still seems noteworthy even after months; she loves him, a thought that's headier than it has any right to be. He might not have meant for her to hear him, but he's sure as hell glad that she did. "Gracie," he murmurs against her mouth, "I just want you."