His relieved exhalation stirred her hair.

For the barest heartbeat, his arms tightened around her—just the way his hand had squeezed hers, before.

"Good," he whispered back.

On impulse—and a way to simultaneously address a real concern and perhaps lighten the mood—he murmured, "Deep dark secret number two. If you want to get free, but I've fallen asleep: my stomach's really ticklish."