He doesn't want to stop. He tells her that out loud so she can't misinterpret it, shows her with his actions, and a part of her is still scared of what might happen if he ever learns the truth, but she owes him more than letting herself get caught up in dark thoughts when all he wants is something she can easily give him as long as she knows he really does want it.

He must, the way he kisses her again, and she threads her fingers into his hair to pull him down, urge him to keep biting if he wants to bite, to kiss him as hard as he might want to. Any damage they might cause to each other will be negligible and anyway, the mild spark of the possibility of this turning into a fight only makes her want him more.

One of her hands slides down, though, and finds his shoulder. Her hand strokes along his arm, over his elbow, down to his wrist, and it's when she breaks the kiss herself that she guides his hand up to cover her breast. She watches his face as she presses his hand to her, hungry to see the expression he'll show her when he gets to touch for the first time.