My heart stutters as he presses another kiss to the fabric, this one more reverent than sensual and I hate the way it makes me ache. The way, “Do you want to come home with me?” almost spills from my lips. I feel vulnerable, undone, and somehow more full of feeling than before—not the usual emptiness and restraint I feel after a hookup. Dangerous, my brain repeats, but my body is ready to tackle him to the floor.
