It was all Ingrid could do to keep her jaw from dropping when he peeled off his shirt, revealing his sculpted, muscular chest and abs. Her mouth went dry at the new charge of desire that burned through her. As he drew her jacket off her, she felt she might spontaneously combust, especially when he drew her too him and held her tightly.<br/><br/>She was pressed so close to him that she could feel the cool, exposed parts of her breasts against his hot skin, and to keep her from wobbling, she had to intertwine her legs with his and place one small, cool hand against his chest.<br/><br/>Frantic with newborn desire but unsure of what to do, she remembered his words and his encouragement for her to be bold. She squeezed her eyes shut in fearful anticipation of some kind of reprimand and slowly, oh so slowly began to run her hand over his chest, her fingertips grazing his skin. She could feel the bumps and ridges of scars but didn't dare look in case that made him angry. Slowly, her hand tentatively ventured down the rocky contours of his abs, and she froze when her fingers brushed against the belt of his pants, unsure of what to do next but wishing he would do the same to her.