And he didn’t even try to pretend to himself that his method of securing her for the insertion of the second was rooted in chivalry or even expedience. He had wanted her in his lap, the better to touch her with his big, clever paws. He marveled at her delicacy, and at how very tiny her hands and limbs were compared to his own. How his fingers could span the width of her buttock from hipbone to tailbone. He knew that even very small women did not, in fact, break when a large man touched them. Or did other things with them. The sorts of things men often did with their wives. He had expected her to bolt once the implants were replaced. But she seemed incapable of moving, and he had long since used up his stores of self-restraint where Charlotte’s body was concerned. Even the weather seemed complicit in nudging them together, as the swell of the waves and the heaving of the boat urged Charlotte, who had less natural ballast, to cling to the nearest available heavy thing for security.
