"Probably not," he said with a shrug, letting the towel fall around his shoulders. "I was covered in toffee and angry as hell. Not the leisurely sort of wank that makes for good watching."
Something low inside him twitched at the idea of her on her knees right this minute, but the tile floor was hard, and wet, and slippery, and wouldn't do at all.
He managed a smile, and when she moved, it turned into a grin. "I'm sure we can work something up. Out. I could do with a beer first though." George dropped the towel and wiped his feet on it, then headed out into the flat to rummage a pair of bottles from the icebox and relieve them of their tops.
"To unexpected visits," he said, handing hers over and lifting his, then taking a long drink. He sighed, then took another before meeting her eyes again.