For once, she was helping instead of getting in the way. He'd thank her, only that wasn't in his vocabulary.

Without her clothes in the way, all he had to worry about was himself, his own stubborn zipper and his own nervous, jittery hands. He was pressed against her, kissing her almost frantically, needing some sort of distraction...

This was oh so very wrong. Wrong wrong wrong a voice chanted, looped in his head, but he told that voice firmly to shove it up it's arse.

Reaching between them again, groping towards all that heat, he found her wet, biting back a tiny whimper as he pressed against her with no barrier between them.