He looked at her when she turned her back to him and took in the curves of her body. He had an urge to walk up behind her and wrap his arms around her, put his face in her hair and breathe her in. Maybe, if he could hold her long enough, think about nothing but her, he could get some fucking sleep. He didn't do that though. He didn't comment or ask how she liked it, afraid of her answer. Instead he crossed his ankle over his knee and played with the frayed hem of his jeans.