He tenses involuntarily when her fingers skate over his ribs. She can touch his sides and he'll be fine -- it's only when she uses her nails that might send him into fits.

But as he takes the glass, he pauses with the rim just at his lips as a grin spreads across his face in reply to her question.

Tossing back the mouthful of water as if it were a shot of liquor, he sets the glass back down on the floor, and slips his hand back around her waist, thumb stroking her skin under the t-shirt. He leans in, and for a moment, his parted lips hover a hair's breadth away from hers, savoring the heat, the hum, the closeness between them. And then he kisses her, warm and tender.