She drew a quick soft gasp and curled closer, threaded fingers in his hair. Such a pretty

sound. Maybe she would make it again, if he--but Christine slid backward, tilted away from him gently. Stroking his hair, not upset but reluctant to let go.

For a moment they were a confusion of hands--his curved to her shoulder, the slope of her spine, hers curled in under his trousers, darted in sleek just behind the waistband. Little velvet kisses just below his navel. Both of them seeking more touch.

"Here," and it wasn't secrecy that drove his voice low as their hands touched, as he guided her fingers through the short crosswise pull of a half-snap.

She didn't need his help, but oh, he was glad to give it.