The conversation went on, but I was fixated on Griff’s touch. Those naughty fingers brushed my leg again, but only the outside. Maybe I really was “Tawdry” because I regretted shoving him away from me. Unbidden, my leg drifted ever so slightly closer to him beneath the table. Griff chuckled quietly, then skimmed his palm over my bare knee again. I stopped breathing.
