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“Really?” he murmurs, amused, before kissing her again. “This doesn’t appeal to your good nature?”
“I’m fortunate to have a lover with such integrity,” he says, pacifying, mildly sheepish —— what clumsiness he has today. He lifts his head, finding her eyes. “My apologies.”
He lets out a long, amused huff, letting himself settle again.
“The lady is right in many, many, many, many things.”
“The lady is right in many, many, many, many things.”
"Another thing the lady is right about," he says, returning to her throat, kissing his way up it and to her ear.
“I should get up so we can get on with our day, hmm?”
But he doesn’t stop, either.
But he doesn’t stop, either.
He stops for just a beat, his nose pressed into the space behind her ear.
“I remember,” he murmurs. “We’ll stay.”
“I remember,” he murmurs. “We’ll stay.”
“I always wish I could linger a little longer.”
He breathes out, slow, comfortable.
He breathes out, slow, comfortable.
Clive runs his lips around the shell of her ear, humming.
“I am thus unemployed until the next sunrise,” he promises.
“I am thus unemployed until the next sunrise,” he promises.
He smiles against her skin.
“And what job will that be?”
“And what job will that be?”
“I want to look at you, not the television,” he says, and he runs a hand down her side. “I want to give you all my attention.”
“It’s all yours.” Her fingers wound into his hair feels compelling. “I will be pleased no matter what you do with it.”
“I would think of you every time I noticed the sting,” he murmurs, shifting so he can look up at her, blue eyes soft and sincere. He smiles, faint but true. “As I’m sure you would, too, feeling the scrape of my beard.”
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