She pressed her face to the broad ledge of his collarbone and let herself stay there, breathing in the clean sharpness of him, and tried to laugh the feeling loose.
"You're not supposed to agree with me when I'm being ridiculous," she mumbled into the muscle of his chest. Her ears flicked against his jaw. "That's the whole point of being ridiculous. You argue."
A low sound rumbled up through him, felt more than heard. Not quite a laugh. Closer to a purr that had gotten lost on its way to being a growl. "You're not ridiculous." His fingers spread flat between her shoulder blades, huge and steady. "You want them small forever. So do I."
She tipped her head back to look up the long line of him. "You do not. You taught Frost how to sharpen a stick last week. That is the opposite of keeping him small."
