Dragos Goes to Washington (Elder Races #8.5)(42)

Although it wasn’t easy to sneak a dragon-sized critter across demesne borders, they would manage. Somehow, they always did.

Setting aside the scotch, he strolled back to bed. “Who knew that marrying a sneaky penny thief would come in so handy?”

“Hey,” she said. “Discreet.”

“That too.” He stripped off his clothes, climbed into bed and turned off his light. Pia turned on her side so that he could spoon her from behind. He stroked her hair back and kissed her neck. “Time to get to sleep,” he whispered in her ear. “We want to make sure you get all your rest out by morning.”

Sleepy glee suffused her. Pretending to be clueless, she whispered back, “What’s going to happen in the morning?”

“Oh, you know,” he told her. “‘You diddle here, I suck there. Or maybe you suck, and I diddle. Or both. Couple of pats, and ten or fifteen thrusts. Oh baby, you’re so good, I can’t take it, pow, et cetera, let’s go raid the fridge.’”

Nodding in contentment, she closed her eyes. “That’s what I hoped you would say.”