He told her he might replace the existing lining of his jacket with a new one, a painting on silk of her, posed just that way. He nosed her hair aside and whispered directly into her ear, “Knowing you’re wet.”
She said that changing his prized jacket sounded like serious business, like permanence. “Won’t you get tired of me?”
He eased her onto her back, settled in the cradle of her thighs, and rubbed against her to demonstrate how much he wanted her yet again, as badly as before.
“You know what I told you about the feeling I get right before every takeoff?”
“You can’t wait?”
He smiled.