"Also, let's be honest about where toys eventually take you, beautiful. The more you reach for them, the less your body responds to anything else. Fingers stop being enough and then small toys stop being enough. Then you shift to bigger ones and eventually you're chasing a sensation that doesn't exist anywhere except in the memory of a real one — which, in your case, is nearly four years old now and getting blurrier by the month."
She stared at him.
Then, slowly, she smiled.
It wasn't embarrassed, much less a defensive one.
She'd just been read so accurately she didn't even have the energy to pretend otherwise, and her smile knew it — warm, wicked, and a little stunned.
"Okay," she said, voice low and husky. "You're either really good at this, or really lucky."
"Both." Phei's smile turned slow and predatory, the kind of smile that made women forget their own names and their own rules.
