It's beautiful, seeing her like that; dark lace and flushed skin, spread thighs and the taut arch of her back. Rosie drinks in the sight of it, her fingers skating up the inside of Sabrina's thigh, watching the touch--the need, something only Rosie's firing within her right now, and what a revelation that is--register on her face.

"I don't know if either of us can move right now, really," she says, the corner of her mouth going up in amusement. "But I don't want you here. I want you in my bed."

Nick might have said it better, and had before. He'd been strong, and commanding, and all the things Rosie wasn't sure she could be even if she tried, but maybe that didn't matter. She takes a breath, her fingers moving against the lace of Sabrina's panties, slow circles pressing in just slightly where she's already soaked. "Tell me you haven't forgotten where my bedroom is, even after all this time."