He presses with the tips of his fingers. Hard. Yes, fucking yes. “You driving into me,” I offer. I won’t stop this scene we’re imagining. I want it too badly. “Me, taking you apart,” he murmurs. The feel of his hands, the sound of his breath, the weight of his want—it’s a drug, and I’m lost in the high. “Please,” I say, begging him. I’m ready to say come home with me.
