She would. She'll be happy to remind him of it, should the opportunity present itself when they're out in the world together. But in the moment, she's pleased with the his mouth and his beard, the restless, responsive movement of his body, and his hands, always his hands, on her bare skin.

And because of how close they are, one line of connection between their bodies, everything telegraphed by Loxley's hands on her back and the flex of his body beneath her, Derrica understands his intention even before the rearrangement of their position drags a groaning complaint from the bed. Their kiss breaks on her smile, broad and delighted. She's momentarily yielding, welcoming the shift in position. Loxley feels so good over her, and it's very tempting, except—

Rather than allowing the momentum to come to a stop, and Loxley to bear her down into the mattress, Derrica presses up before he can settle. They roll again, with Derrica's leg hooking around his hip, intending to pin him onto his back on the opposite side of the bed.

Assuming there's enough bed for this maneuver. Derrica hadn't looked before she'd followed this impulse.