"Mmm," he hummed, raising his eyebrows and sounding very unconvinced, his eyes still closed.
Of course she didn't. He grinned when her toes brushed across his chest. James liked the game, the tease of it all, of letting words just tumble out of his mouth without thinking much about them first. And on top of that, there was the charming draw of the fact that she was perfectly capable of hexing him senseless.
"Excellent choice," he commended with a nod before pressing the cigarette to his lips once more.
His eyes slid open, gaze traveling up her legs, back to her face. Seeing the slope of her neck called another image to mind, one he'd noticed before but hadn't commented on. A splash of ink across her shoulder. When James was younger tattoos had been a bit more rare, and he still found the splash of ink on skin, especially a woman's skin, a bit exotic. After a moment of pondering, he flicked a bit of ash into the soap dish.
"What's your tattoo mean?" he asked, curiosity prompting a sharp left turn in their conversation. Whatever it was they'd been talking about.
It might have been something of a personal question, but since his thumb pulling slow circles against the side of her knee, he figured she might not begrudge him a personal question. After all, he was behaving himself rather well, all things considered.