His skin heats up all over, his cheeks and throat and chest all at once, as she rests against him. He feels it low in his belly and gets as close as he ever does to a prayer in response (Dear God, don't let me embarrass myself). With her hand keeping his where it is, he has no choice but to settle his arm against her breasts. When she breathes, he feels it.

And if there's any doubt whether he wants to be here with her, his other arm snaking around her middle should put paid to that. He might not be pulling her against him, but he's taking the opportunity she offers him. As strong as she is - and her muscles are certainly notable under his touch - she feels small in his arms. Not delicate, but well-made, and therefore worth holding with some care.

He sputters out a few words in a low voice when she speaks, the warm air of I and um and well moving over one of her ears. The best he can do is a mumbled, "I gave you my word, and I'm planning to keep it."