He won't say envy - mostly because it's one of those uncomfortable words that makes it a little easier to remember the kind of fire he's playing with here.

Rolling onto his back and pushing up against the pillows, Gus pulls up the covers to pool around his waist as he watches the vixen stride toward the kitchen - her tease working in every possible way.

"Mmm, I like it hot and spicy. Jerk chicken with a little side of the chef for dessert?" Well played, Smooth-Gus. He then kills it by shrugging helplessly and adding; "Or, you know... whatever, baby."