His lips part slightly as he watches in the reflection in his hand. She was so very beautiful. Her skin was so damn fair. All that white--seamless--and the light pink of her nipples. While the cold rainwater was almost certainly at fault, Ishamael could not but indulge in a little flight of fancy and think that he was at least partially the cause of a certain reaction.

And what a pleasing reaction it was, though irritation flickered across his face as his mind correllated the unconscious shaping of his mouth with what he was seeing in the reflection. He was above such things.