The question abruptly made Savannah giggle. It was a girlish giggle, easy-going and bright, and she covered her mouth with the flat of her hand. "Sorry," she apologized as she positioned herself behind him on her knees. As suspected, the flat surface of the bed helped keep her ankle in one stable position, rather than turning it as the cushions on the couch had. "My brain is obviously not on massages."
Her fingers resumed their previous activity, pressing and teasing. "This is fine," she told him with a grin. "Unless you'd like a massage somewhere else, too."