"It's a joke, Featherbrain," she teased with a smile. "Though if you wanted to take credit, I'd let you. The outcome is clearly working in your favor," she laughed softly, hovering on the edge of kissing him again, just scant inches from his lips, before pulling back with a smirk. She sat back down on the edge of the bed, carefully swinging her feet up and sliding them under the blanket that covered his legs. She didn't allow the blanket to cover more than her feet and ankles, but she used the borrowed closeness beneath it to brush her bare feet against the pant leg of his pajama pants. She enjoyed every aspect of touching him, no matter how small or innocent. And, as long as he was trapped in doors by his cold, she'd indulge her desires for contact. Fully reclined, she propped herself up on one elbow to look at him.
She wondered if he realized how much self control she was exerting just to lay passively beside him. She could pretend to be human, and a good little girl, all damn day. But she wasn't either of those things. She knew if she were to reach out, grab him by his shirt, and drag him down she could have more than a little fun. But she didn't. She wasn't about to risk the fragile connection they'd been building on a moment of lust.
"So, what do you want to do now? Play charades?" She bit her lip, making the comment sound oddly suggestive.