Subconsciously, the emotional priorities of this relationship shift slightly for him as she explores his throat and chest with those burning touches and kisses. He knows he was wrong, completely and idiotically wrong about her mouth, and at some point he's going to make sure she knows it.

The question makes its way through a haze of pleasure. God, he loves that she's so specific, that she owns her self-knowledge and is unafraid to let him know how much of it she has for his benefit.

"A few," he admits, hoarsely. "Admittedly it wasn't the centre of my focus as I was researching."