“Is that what you want, Dakota? You want me to touch you?” That time my nod was as frantic as my breath had been. Terrified because this shouldn’t be happening. I shouldn’t let it. He and I were wrapped up in something that wasn’t real. But I couldn’t find the logical response. Found no rationale. No sound judgment when I whispered, “I’ve wanted you to touch me since I understood what desire meant.” He’d become the meaning of it. The reason for it.
