It was unconscious, what she did next; she didn’t mean to touch him, not exactly. In fact, she couldn’t even remember lifting her hand to his body. She only remembered the softness of his sweater, the heat and hardness of his torso beneath—and then relief, intoxicating relief when he finally touched her, when he dragged his hands down her body with a tortured sound, his palms branding her through the thin tissue of her dress before he gripped her hips, hard, and she bit back a cry, startling as the door slammed shut only to discover, with a shock, that she was pressed against it, held in place
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Swoon
