There is some immediate, yielding response from her body; for a moment, every part of her softens, welcoming his hands and his mouth.

Then, just gently, there is a nip of teeth. More pressure than bite, shifting to a smile as she draws back. His hands are allowed to hold their place as she sets her palms at his shoulders and asked, "And if I want you to sit up against the headboard?"

A query that, once spoken, Derrica thinks better of. What are the exact limitations of what Loxley's bed will be able to withstand?