Rogue glares darkly.
"It's not like we ain't done this before," he points out before leaning in to touch her.
She sucks in her breath. "Not recently."
He shrugs. "Much funner than in front of m' père."
She rolls her eyes. "You would think that."
"But of course."
Then he's touching her in earnest--real practice, brushing a butterfly kiss over her shoulder, sliding his hand along her arm. Always has to be so careful to withdraw when her skin responds.
Finally, he's drained and stops. "Not bad."