His announcement gets a broad, eager grin, and she watches him inch his way up her body; as soon as he's near her breast she slides her hands over his shoulders, runs fingers through his hair. (It's nice to know, even now, that he likes it when she's direct, when she's a little crass. Maybe she's still got it. Lord knows he's still got her number.)

"Any time you like," she murmurs, and hen she can't say anything more; she just groans against his lips, hitching her knee up against him as he thrusts into her. And, God, that's just what she needed.