“You don’t sound sure,” he said, pretending to identify hesitance and of course, being a real gentleman about it. Verbally, at least. Downstairs, nothing gentlemanly was going on in the fraction of space between sex and not-sex. “Lemme give you some time to think about it.” His fingers squeezed and kneaded her flesh. He wet his lips and mumbled, “Y’know, I don’t think I locked that door…”