What grasp he has on his composure is slipping. If it weren't for being able to feel every tiny detail of this -- the weight of her arm, the gentle roughness of her hand, the heat of her body -- he'd be sure he was hallucinating.

"As am I. I hadn't considered this outcome," he admits. He tips his forehead against hers, wanting to stay close but paralyzed by the thought of going any farther. This is already so far beyond his wildest expectations.