“What should I wear?” “Something that gives you full range of motion,” he considered. “Preferably as little material as possible.” I glared at him. “I’m not freezing my ass off just so you can get your rocks off.” “Oh, cuore mio. You could wear a fucking potato sack and I would still get my rocks off.” He tipped under my chin. Oh, sweet cheese. Maybe he had seen the potato shifter book.
