It's a pushy thing and she rarely asks, but since he all but offered, Pamela lifts her hands and cups his jaw. He needs to shave...that's the first thing she notices. Weak chin, thin lips, good cheekbones, strong brow. He fingers and thumbs creep along, feeling every inch as she forms an image of what he must look like in her mind.

Her touch grows lighter, lingering at his lips. Nice voice and soft lips...definitely a plus. Every brush of her fingers against skin and stubble gives her a little charge and she keeps going, moving down his throat with one hand, all the way to his collar.

"How old are you?" she asks as her fingers move beneath his eye. He can't be much older than Bobby, she thinks, and that's a fine age to be.