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In a heartbeat, she slid herself sideways between me and the table, her hands around my neck as she pressed her nose against the bare skin of my throat.
“Gods, you smell good. Why do you smell so good?”
In this position, her makeshift dress was riding high on her thighs. I swallowed. A decent person would have pretended not to notice. A better person would have even pulled the dress back down to hide all that supple skin. But I was neither.
I slid my hands along the flesh of her upper thighs and squeezed. Gods, she was so soft. Her gasp in my ear was so sweet.
More, touch, more.
I doubt she even knew that her single-worded thoughts were playing in my mind. They were soft and whimpery, and my body reacted to every single one. My clothes felt too tight, too restrictive, and I ached to flip my shirt over my head and feel her skin plastered against mine.
I found her lips waiting and eager, full of promises and sighs.
Yes, yes, yes. This, more.
