Hesitantly at first, his arms came around her waist. And then, as if his control failed at last, he drew her hard against his form. It was hungry and desperate and grateful, so grateful. His face dropped into the curve of her neck and he held to her. She was giving as good as she got, and it was a fight not to fall into the old habit he had of kissing the girl in his arms. This wasn't Satine, and he didn't have any rights with Enigma, and she'd gone through so much --
And yet, here she was, comforting him when it should have been him doing that for her. He took a long, shuddering breath and clutched at her. Again, that urge to kiss, and again, that answering wave of wrong -- but it was softer this time. Satine...
Sorrow returned when he thought that perhaps he was forgetting her. Perhaps he was forgetting what it was to have her in his life, to feel her yielding under his inexperienced hands. "Oh god," he murmured.