She wasn't speaking carelessly; she had given it a great deal of thought and was ready to face death in her role as the Ninth Lady.
"I regret it."
"What?"
"I shouldn't have taught you to be so sensible."
Wyatt Wright's hand rested on Rae Bennett's waist, his fingertips brushing a sensitive spot on her lower back through the fabric of her clothes, gently and faintly so.
Her bones turned soft, and she obediently lay on top of him, fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt: "Don't you like me this way?"
"Not that, it just pains my heart."
His gaze was peaceful, intense but not scorching, and being looked at like that felt like soaking in a gentle spring.
Even a little fiend flailing her claws would have her paws softened by such immersion.
"Your nursery school kids have grown up," Rae looked up with a beautiful smile in her eyes, "you should be happy."
Wyatt patted her head: "Then you take your time growing up."
