Though it's tempting just to close her eyes, Meredith keeps watching him, trying to slow her breathing again. She rakes a hand through her hair, the careful, even breaths she takes at odds with her racing heart. Trying hard to keep still, she can't help squirming a little anyway. Even looking at him, knowing what he's doing, the faint pang accompanying the feel of his mouth on bruised skin manages to surprise her. That one, at least, isn't entirely unpleasant, or if it is, she misses it, lost somewhere beneath the growing anticipation. Her breath catches and sticks in her throat and she holds it without entirely noticing.