His lips ghosted over my shoulder, featherlight. I felt my knees buckle. As if he could, too, his large hand squeezed my hip, the other trailing fingers down my arm. “Can I touch you?” The question both shocked and thrilled me. Shocked because I expected him to take, wanted him to, and thrilled because, well… duh. “Please do,” I said, thinking I might perish on the spot when his hand crawled under the worn cotton of my tank, sliding across my stomach.
