It's good that he doesn't let go. Neither is she, despite the quiet giggle and the way her cheeks are darkening in what must be a blush. She does try to relax her grip a little, so she's not strangling him, but it's clear by the way she's holding on, she's still not at all comfortable with being in the open water.

That is, until her feet hit the bottom and she discovers the water is only waist deep. A little of the terror bleeds away, but none of the embarassment. She drops her head to his shoulder and laughs again, this time at her own expense.

Goddess, he smells good. Even in the water, this close it's impossible to ignore. He smells -- male. And certain instincts wake up instantly, instincts she'd tried to keep suppressed for a very long time. She found herself in the arms of a very masculine man, and while virtually (deliciously) naked.

She didn't move, just held very still, breathing him in, waiting for him to -- do something.