"It's usually not that fast," I find myself saying, and then I laugh breathlessly at the ridiculous comment. "I guess that's just what you do to me, mon chou."

I wrap my arm around his waist, pulling his arm down in the process so that his sticky hand rests against my hip. I feel so wrung out, oversensitive, and happy. After a long moment of reveling in it and doing my best to catch my breath, I pull back to smile slyly at him. "Looks like your birthday had a happy ending, eh?"