Chapter 42
He did know that. Drained, triumphant, he knew it throughout his entire being. Even down to his toes. He wiggled them just to test that theory. His toes confirmed it: they believed in Jason wholeheartedly.
“Ticklish?”
“Hmm? No. I never have been. Or I think not, at least.” His shoulder tingled: wonderfully cool, far less sore. “That feels splendid. Please pass on my compliments to someone.”
“Will do, next time we see Bruce. Other shoulder? Not as bad, but I can see it.”
“Oh, yes, definitely.” He became a puddle of lazy winter-scented indulgence under Jason’s ministrations, liquified by bliss. “Your hands are profoundly magical. My sorcerer. Healing greenwitch. Knight with enchanted fingertips. I may never leave your bed.”
“Works for me, but Jill might object.”
“Oh…Jill…production…they’ll understand, your bed is far too tempting and I’ve been ensorcelled…oh, that’s nice.”
“Good. Hip?”