"Damn." Regina wasn't one for swearing, usually, but sometimes no other words would do. Like the damn for the way her fingers around her wrist dropped him straight into his lizard-brain, not to mention made him look a lot more edible than her pancakes.

After lifting her food off her lap, she shifted onto her knees and leaned in until she could feel each heated, taut breath brush over her mouth like it was her own. No, not like. His breath was hers. Every single breath, every single beat of his heart, every thought, all of him, hers.

Who was she kidding with this dinner first story she was trying to tell?

"Bed, Neil. Now." Or floor, or couch if he could move his food fast enough, she didn't care. "I'm suddenly feeling... possessive."