What do visible ankles and scandalous brushing pinkies have in common? They’re a part of the period-piece waiting game.

On Thursday, Netflix finally released “Bridgerton” season four, part two. It follows the second eldest Bridgerton brother, Benedict (Luke Thompson), and his journey to find the mysterious woman he met at a masquerade ball, dubbed the “Lady in Silver.” His love is redirected when he meets maid Sophie Baek (Yerin Ha), who, unbeknownst to him, is said mystery woman. The two struggle to be together as society deems their upper and lower class dynamic unsuitable.

And after what seems to be the longest wait of my life from part one, I devoured it.

This theme of forbidden romance and class struggle is also prominent in “Wuthering Heights,” which has recently become a topic of conversation following the release of Emerald Fennell’s adaptation. And it was “Bridgerton” that highlighted the film’s weaknesses.

The adaptation takes creative liberties and has the couple getting it on practically everywhere. But, if I’m being honest, the sex scenes were the most boring part of an already yawn-worthy movie, because they were simply too indulgent.

Every truly great period romance has one secret weapon: restraint.

Whether that be disapproving parents or promises of betrothal to another, this genre requires an obstacle to build up tension. Expectations of propriety mean they can’t just publicly make eyes at one another and hook up. They have to play the long game. Cue the yearning.

Yearning is an illustration of longevity. The audience watches on as tension grows, but resistance thins. It also makes the audience feel for the characters’ desperation and root for their eventual overcoming of it.

Like a rubber band, two characters have to resist so fiercely and pull apart with such force that their eventual snap together is that much stronger.

Season four surprised me because Benedict and Sophie arguably got together fairly quickly: they kissed in episode one and had their steamy staircase moment in episode four. Compared to season two, which didn’t have the main couple even kiss until episode six, I worried their relationship would feel too rushed.

But each intimate moment was followed by a separation that left the characters wanting more. And it was ultimately this space that made me anticipate the next time they would cross it.

“Wuthering Heights” had less of a snap because there was hardly any pull. The movie was sexy at times, but ultimately, when Heathcliff (Jacob Elordi) and Cathy (Margot Robbie) finally got together, it fell flat. Why? There was hardly any waiting as they immediately got together when he returned.

The pair are free to sensually run their fingers through eggs and put grass in each other’s mouths because there’s no obstacle. In the book, Cathy’s older brother, Hindley Earnshaw, abuses and degrades Heathcliff, forcing him away from her. Race and class prevent romance. The film removes all of these obstructions and leaves you questioning why, before Cathy’s marriage, two poor white people are forbidden from being together at all.

Heathcliff’s absence attempts to serve as this barrier, but it’s barely an act of restraint. Cathy doesn’t really have to resist him because she can’t even find him. What is there to hold back from?

And finally, when Heathcliff returns, they barely wait to be together. If Elordi and Robbie’s lack of chemistry wasn’t bad enough, the montage of sex scenes clearly shows that there’s nothing holding them back. I wasn’t even inching toward the edge of my seat before they gave in to their horniness.

This is not to say “Bridgerton” is the definition of a great period piece. It’s historically inaccurate, and their mastery of yearning is accompanied by a proficiency in cringe. And it’s certainly not sparing with the sex. But “Bridgerton” at least takes into account the force of holding back and the benefit of walls crumbling down after being stacked too high.

The necessity for restraint, especially in the modern age, isn’t just about building sexual tension. It’s about leaving room for the relationship to develop, so when the long game reaches the end, the result is worth the wait.

Sex in period pieces has to be treated, not necessarily in moderation, but with care. When the entire world is concerned about status and propriety, breaking the rules has to feel irresistible.

Sophia Kang is a sophomore writing about romance media in her column, “Love, Actually,” which runs every other Tuesday.