"I heard my name," Ivan said against her ear. "I just thought I'd give you one last chance to tell me you wanted to go back to talking about the best way to scrub a frying pan."
"Ivan, if an actual frying pan comes through that door, I'd prefer to see it get its money's worth." Felicity drew his hand between her legs. He touched her with one finger, slow enough to let her guide him. The little hitch in her breathing when he found the place she liked had nothing to do with the bruises at her throat.
He eased into her with his weight on his arms. She had spent a long time thinking of how it might feel to get those shoulders under her hands and the big lion moving against her with the lamp low. In her imagination, she'd had no trouble at all finding things to say to him while they did it. In the bed she found it surprisingly difficult to get two words out in the right order.
