He lifted a hand to her hair, brushing his fingers through lightly so as not to tangle. It felt soft, and this close to her he could smell her shampoo and perfume. He would try his best to commit those sensations to memory.
Instead of answering, he looked down at her, read the uncertainty in her face. He slid his hands out of her hair and undid another button of his own shirt, watching her carefully, looking for any sign that she did not want this. Errol wanted this so badly, but even if this ended now he would still have the memories of her lips on his and the scent of her hair.