She ran her hand between his shoulder blades, down the vast expanse of his back. Mary loved the tone of his skin — caramel or peanut butter colored. He made a sound into the pillow.

"Feel good?" she whispered.

"You've no idea," he lifted his head to say.

She loved the tone of his voice, too. Sweet and smooth like those strawberry cream Lifesavers she tried once.

As her hands travelled lower, she realized she liked another of his tones. His muscles. (That butt especially. Jumping rope had been more than kind to him.)

Izzy rolled over. "Your turn," he grinned.