A twitch of blood and muscle, hips rolling into her touch. There's a sweetness to her urgency that, with the ruthlessness of a whip crack, strips his desire of compromise. Hap can feel it in her hands. Her honesty.

Her gratitude.

Hap pulls back enough to grab at the hem of her shirt and roll it up. He expects her to release him and raise her arms to help him get it off. The electrodes on her temple will come loose or tumble off; he'll scrape off the rest with blunt nails before palming her breast.