“I’m sore as hell,” she told him. His weight was gone off of her in an instant. He dropped on the bed next to her. “You’re sore?” She turned her head to look at him. His forehead was furrowed. He was greatly displeased by this information. “I don’t know what else I could be,” she grumbled. “You worked me over like a double batch of sourdough.” The furrow deepened, and his shoulders tightened. “Did I hurt you?” He radiated concern. Everything in her went soft and mushy. “No,” she said, reaching up for him and pulling his head down until it was flat on the mattress right next to hers. She stared
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