"Yeah, so I've noticed," he told her, rather arrogantly. Although his arrogance wasn't exactly unfounded.
His eyes narrowed as he watched for her reaction. He was partly waiting on some physical pain, he would have fully accepted that. He was waiting for her expression to change to one of disgust. He was waiting for her to start shouting abuse at him, to storm off, to tell him to leave, to call him a twat- what he didn't except was the moan. His eyebrows raised in surprise. All of the comebacks were gone, and suddenly she was just playing the role. She wanted him to do this.
He moved deliberately closer until he was almost pressed against her back, looking at the book over her shoulder.
"You know, on the train, I was always fucking joking when I said you were turned on by me being a chauvinist," he nearly whispered, his hands moving to grip her waist. "But it's been really obvious, for quite a while, that you really are getting off on it," he told her, before pressing a kiss against her neck.