If she were in unknown territory, with one flimsy curtain between her and certain death, Buffy would be as restless as her bed partner; but that wasn't tacit permission for his hands to make their way under her t-shirt. She rolled away and elbowed him back to his side of the mattress. "No way," she mumbled into the pillow. "I'm sleeping."

He responded by grabbing onto her breast.

"Such a romantic."

"I helped lure Richard to your trap. Where's my reward?"

"You already got it," she informed him, arching her neck to make her meaning obvious. "Now let me sleep."