I give you another kiss before taking you into my arms and carrying you over to the chaise in question like a groom carrying his bride to their marital bed on their honeymoon.
My hands idly brush over you. Through the fabric of your clothes they caress you arms and back, thigh and buttock. Not aggressively. I'm not trying to rush this. No, it's just that I can't have you in my arms without my hands touching you. It's one of those fundamental rules of the universe. Sky is blue, gravity pulls us down, water is wet, my hands must touch you.
Soft caressing as our hands know what they need. To couch each other close and warm and loved. Fingertips dancing over your chest and arms lost in your eyes