Her hands covered so much of his face, as if he were hiding-- or she hiding him-- behind them. Eric's kiss to the heart of her palm sent a flutter of warm feeling through her. But to see more of him, of those gently sloping cheeks, Amber slipped her hands back to curve around the nape of his neck. His skin folded there, and her fingertips ran over the pinpricks of his hair as she distractedly caressed him. From passionate kissing and shoving to feather-light touches in less than five minutes; she didn't understand them. Not one bit.

What hadn't Eric told anyone so much, this fast? About his family? And what was the remarkable part, the fact that he'd revealed that much, or that it was in so brief a period of time? House probably knew a lot about him-- from bribing other people and other schemes. Amber wondered what Eric had told his past girls, the ones he'd loved and not. Shouldn't matter. Fact was, he was telling her. Awkwardly, and often accusingly, as if what he'd done was her fault. Maybe he resented telling her. Amber sighed. He'd also admitted that she should know and that he didn't like how hard it was to let these things out. She'd have to give him the benefit of the doubt. Hugging like this, snug and cozy, made it easier to. She inched closer, away from the cold flatness of the lockers and into his welcoming, familiar torso.

"I tell you," Amber started to protest. She told him lots of things, like what she wanted from him in bed and how she hated not being in control. There were only a few things she'd kept from him, like her confrontation with House, her jealousy over his past girlfriends, how upset she'd gotten that he wasn't attracted to her-- "Most of the time," she acknowledged. "Okay. Go ahead, ask me something you wanted to know." The worst he already knew.