"Of course not," he assured her. "I live but to serve, mam'selle." His hands slid over her rear, cupping her with strong fingers, enough to lift her up a moment before settling her back down onto his hips. He leaned forward, brushing her hair aside with his nose, and placing a soft kiss on the pale, vulnerable skin of her throat. "You'd like to have me serve you, hmmm?" he asked, voice deep and rich as chocolate. "A whim, a demand, and 'tis done, my face buried 'tween your breasts or your thighs, begging for the opportunity to please you once more."