Grinning, he thrust his hips forward. “Would you like to start with the front or the back?”
Gritting her teeth, she exhaled.
Just get it over with already.
She thrust her hand down his left front pocket and froze.
There was nothing there. Well, no. Not exactly.
There was something there. But it wasn’t his key card.
He groaned. “You remembered.”
She blinked. “Wha-what?”
He put his lips to her ear. “That I hang left.”
Had she remembered? She wasn’t thinking about that when she’d— Was she?
She made a move to pull out her hand, but he placed his on top of hers.
“You haven’t finished with this one yet. The pocket’s deeper than that. You’ll have to go farther,” he said, his voice raspy.
Her hand slid down.
“That’s nice,” he murmured. “Anything worth doing, is worth doing—” He paused, staring at her.
She held her breath. It felt as though all available oxygen had been sucked into a vortex.
His brow wrinkled. “Something about this is familiar.”
She quickly tugged to pull her hand out but only got about halfway. Her bracelet was stuck.
Not again.
She pulled. She pulled harder. And with each tug, she felt the space in that pocket get tighter.
“Hey,” he said, “stop, you’re going to rip—”
“Sorry.”
He blinked, looking bemused. “What are you sorry for? Why did you stop?”
“You just told me to.”
“Well that was stupid of me. Why the hell would I do that?”
She wanted to laugh. But she wanted to get her hand out of his pocket more. She would laugh. Later. When she told Charles, who would definitely laugh.
“Because I was going to rip your pants.”
“That’s okay. I don’t mind.”
Yeah, I know what it is you don’t mind.
He dipped his own hand in the pocket and began stroking hers. “Let me see if I can help.”
“How is this supposed to help?”
