‘Relax,’ he whispers, his hand trailing between my thighs. ‘You’re thinking too hard.’
‘But—’
He halts my protests with a swat of his hand on the back of my thigh. It stings briefly, but it isn’t nearly as unpleasant as the image conjured immediately in my head.It’s like lady-boner bromide.
I turn my head and look over my shoulder at him, at the sensitive curl of his mouth, the desire kindling in his gaze.
‘Are you going to take me in hand?’ I ask, aiming for sugar-sweet, though the words are more like a low rasp from my mouth.
His expression reflects no sensitivity to my tone, that aimed for or otherwise, his hand now cupping between my legs. ‘I was hoping you might like to come upstairs. Help make me feel better?’
‘Play doctors and nurses? Funny,’ I add as grave as a judge. ‘Because if you mention my parents’ sex-life to me again, I’m going to have to take up another kind of profession. I’m going to have to join a convent. Become a nun.’
His beautiful face is as blank as a mask. For about three more seconds, when the bastard breaks out into a hearty laugh.
‘Oh god. I’d hoped I’d dreamt that!’
