“What if I don’t want it gently?” I whisper. Donnelly stares into me, and I wish my mind-reading powers kicked in right now. Without much pause, he draws glitter lines across the tops of my breasts, then ascends to my collar, tracing the bone that juts out. And then higher, to the tender nape of my neck. I shudder, almost letting out a moan. He breathes, “Seems like you love gentle.”
