Curtis keeps as quiet as he can, old habits taking hold, but that makes every gasp, every whispered, fervent curse, and every barely-contained groan strike out through the Voice like an arrow. It's amazing. It's fucking amazing. He bears down on her thigh without being conscious of it, urging her closer, begging for all the contact he can get.

At some point, he realizes he's still clutching at her dress. Curtis lets go -- and moves his hands underneath instead.