" She paused and unexpectedly stroked her fingers down the feathers of his neck.
He froze. She couldn't know how intimate that seemed, or how sensitive he was to her touch even through the sleek covering of eagle feathers. Pleasure at being petted ran down his spine.
He should say something or step away. He did neither. Instead, ever so slightly, he leaned into her touch.
It was wrong of him, but his wrong button seemed to be broken, and he didn't care. "

― Thea Harrison , Shadow's End (Elder Races, #9)