“Maybe," he only whispers, and her hands merely lift from his skin, and he squints in frustration.
“Sorry,” she can’t remember when she had stopped breathing. Stepping back a bit, her hands stroke out of his hair, trying to keep the touch as long as possible. He doesn’t deny her the contact and stays still.
He gives them a few seconds, to shake the tensions off.
“Don’t be,” he dares to turn around as far as he can to face her. “I actually liked that.”
There is a slight blush on her face, soft red cheeks, when she considers him, giving him an aloof smile. There is no way, she will tell him that the pleasure was all hers - he knows anyway.
“Well,” she brushes her hand over her nose and mouth, inhaling the scent that lingers on her fingers.
He smirks, he sees right through her. “Speechless? What happened to the clown you had for breakfast this morning?”
It’s what she needs to come back into track, “Watch it!” She grabs for the sonic screwdriver in his pockets, and tickles his ear with it, “or I’ll make you beg!”
Peter winds around, tries to get away from her, “No, no, no! Jenna!”
A week later in the editing room
“What the hell? What has happened with Peter’s hair, that day? Has no one noticed? Jesus F*** Christ!”
“Take it out, the scene is rubbish anyway.”
They never use the scene with him in the the cyberman arms.