Had he voiced those thoughts, she would have found herself reluctantly agreeing. She couldn't remember the last time she had let her guard down and allowed someone this close. Her companions had seen her at her messiest, at her bloodiest, and a few of them saw her in worse conditions. She could allow a friend to heal her but never to get so intimately close, not like this. It was almost overwhelming but she refused to let it get the best of her. Not now. Later, perhaps, when she'd think back on the whys and the hows, she might realize how open she left herself and how foolish it might have been to do so.

At the moment, she didn't care.

What did matter was his hands, calloused and warm over her body, and the way he was looking at her, the intensity in his gaze as he touched her. All it took were those words to make her shudder in his grip, lean in to his lips, and oblige him by lifting her arms.