Eric's breath hitched as Anne leaned in, her body grazing his just enough to set fire to every nerve ending. His fingers hovered at the hem of her shirt, like he was waiting for permission he didn't need and she gave it with a look, a silent dare in her eyes.
He took it.
Slowly, deliberately, his fingers slid under the fabric, brushing against her skin as he lifted it inch by inch. He didn't rush it. No, Eric was savoring it like unwrapping something dangerous and precious at the same time. His eyes never left hers. Not once.
They shouldn't be doing this....but they are.
Anne's breath came in shallow pulses, her chest rising and falling with the weight of everything unsaid between them. But the moment his fingers brushed just under her ribs, her hand moved slow, steady reaching down between them, right over the waistband of his jeans, and she touched him.
Eric cursed under his breath. "Fuck!"
