Her hands are tugging, pulling up the teeshirt as she captures his mouth again. Her kisses are hungry, breathless, a little wild as she licks his lips, biting at his chin.

She gasps aloud as her fingertips find bare skin, the hard plane of his stomach, his ribs. The first thing she feels is the heat of his body, warming her palms. And then, she feels the scars. She pushes his shirt up farther, wanting to see, to know this very important thing about him.

It's too dark to see, so her hands roam, reading him with her fingertips.