“I’m so sorry,” she gasps, hand falling across her rosebud lips. “No need. It’s fine,” I say, but I still feel like everything is happening in slow motion. I’m having a hard time catching up, still too fixated on her face. And fuck. Her tits. I’m officially a creepy old man. My eyes trail down to my fist, the soft fabric poking out from between my fingers. She groans as my fingers unfurl. And slowly but surely, I figure out why she’s acting so horrified over me being a gentleman and picking up her . . . Panties.
