I can't believe Alex is asking me if I'm sure. Of course I'm sure!
"Yes," I say. The word is a plea.
His hands continue to move up my back, but this time there's a different sort of pressure behind his touch - almost like he can't decide whether to pull me toward him or push me away. His entire body is rigid beneath me, as if he's right at the edge of his restraint. Finally I lean back slightly and lift my arms up, a silent indication that he should remove my shirt.
"Not yet," he says, his voice a low rasp.
I want to argue with him, but he doesn't give me the chance. He kisses me again, and once more I'm lost in the fire coursing through me.
Beneath my shirt, his hands slide around my body, drifting toward my breasts again. It's unbelievable how much of a difference it makes, him touc
