Meredith ducks her head a little, smiling. She's aching for more, so aware of him, his touch, his breath on her skin, but it's been so long that she sees no reason to rush. Not, anyway, when he's going to say things like that. The way he looks at her and sounds — when he says it, she believes him. "Am I?" she asks anyway, a little breathy. She bites her lip and her tone turns teasing. "You're pretty hot yourself." As far as she's concerned, it's the understatement of the year, but she always feels a little self-conscious, expressing in words just how ridiculously attractive she finds him, like it isn't evident already.