He recalled how soothing her hug had been earlier and itched to feel her soft, warm body in his arms again.
She itched to grab her micro or tap her ear and respond.
Dean itched to ask her how she was so sure it wasn't Mr. David Dean who dropped her hubby into space but she began to sob anew, making any further conversation impossible.
She itched to have her micro again, to look at the logs and hack into whatever she could to find the answers.
He couldn't protect anyone from Sasha in Hell, and he itched to taste the woman meant to be his mate.
