What the hell was he doing? His hands were buried in her hair and her nose was crushed in the fabric of his shirt, not an altogether unpleasant experience. Dammit. She went to pull back, but his arms slid lower, hands cradling her shoulders, almost as if he wanted to keep her there, pressed against him, body to body. “You can let go now,” she said. Or at least, that was what he thought she said. It sounded more like a series of grunts with her face mashed to his chest the way it was. And frankly, the heat of her breath penetrating the fabric and bathing his chest was a little distracting. He let her go and looked down at her, and he hoped he didn’t look as confused as he felt. Because, damn, there had been a moment there… He squelched the thought. Figuratively licked his thumb and forefinger and snuffed that little sucker right out. So what if it burned a little and he thought he heard the hiss? “You okay?” he asked, just so he could fill the silence and stop falling into her eyes.
