He stroked my soft thigh, and goosebumps prickled my skin. His hand was warm and soft. Shock flashed across my face, quickly followed by a wave of desire, a pull towards a side of him I was clearly fighting to keep hidden.
"You can feel it too, can't you....?" he continued his fingers now lightly touching the swell of my breasts.
"I haven't been able to get that night out of my head... With your tits in my face while you rode me like a porn star...." The raw truth hung in the air between us, and just as quickly, he pulled his hand away, a visible effort to suppress his desire.
That's when I finally came to my senses,
"You—"
His finger pressed against my mouth, silencing me.
I narrowed my eyes at him and snapped, "Don't tell me what to do."
He only smiled and took two steps back, giving me space.
I slid off the minibar counter, feeling flustered and mad—mostly at myself. Mad at the way I'd responded. Why the hell had I frozen like that? Why did he have that effect on me?
