"Do I have to?" Lynn muttered but obediently let go and moved backoofing as he was the one suddenly being pushed into the bedding. And he probably should not have been so acutely aware of the press of Anderson's thighs, the heat of his skin through the slinky pants, the smell of warm sugar that always clung to him, the flush that anger gave his skin. He especially should not have been aware of those delightfully distracting things when Anderson was still glaring death at him. "Why did you bother letting them save me if you're just going to kill me now?"
"I prefer a personal touch," Anderson snapped. "And you may yet live depending on how the rest of this conversation goes. First and most important, you should have spoken to me a hell of a lot sooner than you did. You think I haven't noticed you've been glum and withdrawn of late? I hate to admit it, but my first thought when I saw the fancy dinner was that my shitty day was going to end with being let down gently."