Angelica was pleased that one of her favorite gowns survived her spontaneity, the fastenings she'd been too eager to open properly could be remedied by her lady's maid with little difficulty. It was well worth it. The nearly translucent chemise she still wore should be in a bridal trousseau, but the desired effect was the same. So far, it was working.

She went gladly to him, settling into his body, a leg draped over one of his. He missed her contented smile, but she gave a tiny hum of acknowledgment. It was easier than deciding on the appropriate response to praise for such a thing. And yet, she couldn't resist the impulse. "It is a rather enjoyable skill to practice." It was a much lighter response than the morbid curiosity about his other lovers. Did she do this sort of thing for him? Did she enjoy his pleasure as Angel did or was it a means to an end? Was she half as lost in her affections as Angelica was? Damn her, whomever she was. There was another possibility with this mystery woman and, in a way, it was the most frightening prospect for her by miles.

Hand tracing senseless patterns along his torso, Angel was silent for a moment, torn on how to say what she had spinning through her head. "I love it with you," she offered honestly. She adored how she felt with him like this, but was that part of the problem between them? "But," how in all the levels of Hell did she ask this question to a man she'd been in bed with for months? "Does that displease you? My lack of inhibition about such things?" She was anxious about the answer, but she was fully curious just the same. The great irony - she could feel the blush blooming in her face and up to her ears, the question far less comfortable than anything they enjoyed together.

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