Her lips are as soft as the skin beneath my roaming hands. I feel a shiver snake down her spine when my fingers curl into her damp hair. “You shouldn’t be here,” she reminds again, barely managing to get the words out. My response is a whisper against her lips. “I know.” “Someone could have seen you,” she pants. “I know.” Her hands grasp at my hair. “I’m an engaged woman.” My voice is low. “Oh, I know.”
