His hand slid into her hair, massaging the back of her scalp. She suppressed a groan of pleasure. Now, why in hell did it feel so good when other people rubbed one’s head and so pointless when one did it oneself? But this felt more than good. She felt like she needed a bucket of water dumped over her, but still she couldn’t summon up the self-control to pull away, to come up with any excuse to leave this settee, to return home, anything.
