He seems determined. I smile again. My eyes remain focused on his face as he gently grabs the bottom of my sweater. I see him take a long breath as it goes over my head. I help him in the manoeuvre by raising my arms and the next moment, I’m just in a t-shirt.
“Oh, yes... there are several layers.”
I laugh softly at his joke, too. We repeat the operation and I find myself in a bra, my heart pounding. Instinctively, my arms cross to hide my breasts. It’s stronger than me, I can’t do anything about it. He kneels to tackle the buttons on my cargo pants. I forget to breathe while being curiously warm thinking about him, there, his face at this level. Chris moistens his lips again—it must be a nervous tic and it reassures me a little that he’s not as comfortable as I had imagined. His fingers
