" Stop what?” he asked. When she looked at him in confusion, he sat down on her sofa. “What do you need to stop?” Well, for starters, it would be great to quit thinking of you lying faceup on that rug right there and me riding you like Annie-frickin’-Oakley until your six-gun goes off in my— “Oh, God.” She went to cover the flush on her face with her hands—and ended up smacking herself with the plates and the napkins that she forgot she was holding. “Ow—okay, right. I gotta get a grip here.” “On what?” he asked. Don’t say it, she told her mouth. Don’t you dare answer that question. "

― J.R. Ward , The Sinner (Black Dagger Brotherhood, #18)