One big hand smoothed over my hip to my ass, pausing long enough for a groan to rumble out of Noah. With slow, careful movements he gathered the material of my dress in his hand, inching the hem up my thighs. When he hit bare skin, he whispered my name against my neck. His fingers slid between my thighs, brushing the tiny scrap of soaking wet lace I wore. I spread my legs, as much as my bunched-up dress would allow, and tried to shift so his fingers hit the place where I ached. Noah moved with me, staying just out of reach, teasing me with light touches until I whimpered.
