"Shut up."

"Oh c'mon, Marie. Admit it," he says, twisting one of her white streaks around a finger. "You love it."

She watches as he plays with her hair, flicking the ends with his thumb before holding it up to her face, so she's wearing a white moustache. His grin makes her giggle in spite of herself.

"I do not," she protests, batting his hand away.

"Oh yes, you do." His voice drops, his eyes fixed on hers. Her vision narrows slightly and something in her chest does a flip. "You liked my little rescue. In fact," his voice so low it's almost growling. "I think it kinda turns you on."

He tugs gently, her hair still clasped in his hand, until her face is just inches from his. "Well, maybe just a little."

"A little?" He raises an eyebrow, sliding a sure hand between her thighs.

"OK, so maybe more than --" her breath hitches, " -- a little."

He's so close now she can almost feel him on her skin, like a promise. But she doesn't want any more of those.

His eyes narrow, the smug grin disappearing as he closes in on his prize.

"I win."