He snorts, (mostly) good humor as she tugs his jeans down. For god's sake, Chloe, just undo the bloody fly and be done with it. "Really." And then a beat where he reconsiders the idea - fixes her with a slightly more serious sidelong glance: "Really?"

But right. Not touching. Very carefully not touching: his hands are, in fact, neatly tucked just under his own thighs - to keep from being tempted, of course.