If she'd lost her nerve he wouldn't have faulted her for it, though they've long been past the point where it should have come up, he expects.  There are bound to be memories here that can't be wholly quelled by any amount of gentleness, but damned if he's not trying to keep her attention in the present.  Admittedly, it's more than pleasant work. 

He presses his face into the crook of her neck, spurred on by her gasps and cries, too breathless himself to do anything but gasp raggedly against her as he moves, as they move, leaning willingly into her grasp when her arms tighten around him, clutching blindly at her thigh like it's the only thing tethering him to the moment.  Everything in him is focused, blindingly, on her; on making the risk more than worth it, on making her forget everything outside this.  He wants to overwhelm her in the best of ways.  

And when he shudders a final time against her, shoulders slumping with the sudden, blissful exhaustion that follows, he still holds tight to her, tilting his head to nuzzle against the underside of her jaw.  Oh, fuck, was that worth the wait.