“Is this involuntary, too?” He slides his hand beneath the waistband of my skirt, finding me embarrassingly ready. I bite back a moan as his fingers stroke once, twice. They make his point for him.
“Yes,” I say hoarsely. “But that doesn’t mean it’s right.”
“Right and wrong are constructs.” His lips hover just above mine. “The body knows what it wants. Yours is screaming right now.”
I know exactly what I want. Do you?
His words echo in my head. Involuntarily—at least, that’s what I’ll testify if this matter ever went to a courtroom—I reach out to touch him. I gasp at the hard length of him against my palm.
Stefan Safonov absolutely knows what he wants.
And somehow, it’s me.
His lips find the sensitive spot below my ear. It might as well be a button to power me down. With one touch, m
