That’s when it hits me. She’s right. She doesn’t need to do anything more to distract me. The mere thought of her being so close and barely touching me has my head spinning. I’m melted by the promise that her fingers gave me, promise of more, promise of something. Nothing. She won’t lay her hands on me. Instead, she’ll drive me mad by teasing me with her touch, only to pull it away, leaving me wanting more. Leaving me cold without the fire her fingers trail along my skin.
