"Sweetheart, any time you want my pants off, you got it," Rodeo laughed roughly, pushing up onto his elbows enough that he could see her face. "You don't need a clicker. You just say 'pants off' and they're gone."
"Never had no one be my lady, either," Rodeo told her, but he was sure she already knew that. He'd been a player all his life, and that was no secret. He loved women, but he'd never loved one woman. He'd always had too much fun trying out different ones. "And I ain't cocky. Not these days. Back in the day, sure. But no one gives it up since the world ended. Guessin' zombies are a huge mood killer for the ladies or somethin'. Apocalypse is a fuckin' cockblock."
When she rolled them over, he rasped out a playful laugh, hitching a little when his back hit the floor. His hands settled on her hips, gripping them as he shifted under her slightly. It could have been innocent-- one might have believed he was just making himself comfortable, if it wasn't for the crooked smirk on his face and the look in his blue eyes. "Just wonderin' how good that mood of yours is, is all," he drawled, lifting his brows as if in challenge.