Christine couldn't pick up individual thoughts, but she felt that, that swell of certainty and satisfaction. He wanted her, wanted them together, and she couldn't kiss him enough.

So she stopped trying.

One last press of her lips to his, and then she moved lower, a trail of kisses along his neck, down his breastbone to his abdomen - so thin, but not weak or frail at all. Carefully, trying not to tickle more than was necessary.

Her hands danced down his sides and grasped his waist lightly, the flesh smooth and warm underneath her fingers.

He was beautiful.

Inside and out.