Our chests meet and all that warm skin touches mine, her nipples peaked against me. We go back to making out, hands on the move. I shift to the right, keeping one thigh pressed between Cammie’s as I trail my fingers up her side and skim her breast. She arches into my palm and snakes a hand between us, tugging at the drawstring of my pants—breeches. The moment the bow unfurls, she shoves her hand down the front of my boxer briefs and her warm, soft fingers encase my length.
