"Well, I certainly can't get you off first now," is mock-admonishment, the effect of which is dispelled immediately by the brightness of her smile. "But we could still—"

A break, words tapering off to be replaced by the movement of her body, the suggestive downward roll of her hips against him while her hands come back to his shoulders. It's not a difficult thing to pick up on, this telegraphed offer. Surely something easy to divine from the insistent way she'd insinuated herself into his lap.

"If you like," follows after, her head tipping as she looks back at him. It matters, what Loxley might like from this. There's no hesitation; the idea of being indulgent with him comes easy to her.