I drag in a long breath and my face breaks. "Yeah. I know you didn't."
He drops his head against my waist, forehead pressed to me like he's bowing, and his hands settle at my hips. Then his eyes lift to mine, searching.
"I know I shouldn't," he says, almost to himself, but he's already opening my coat.
One button.
Then another.
Each click slow.
"You should stop me..." he says, running his fingers down.
"I should," I snap. But I don't.
Instead, I watch the certain drag of his fingers, the way he looks at me with those thick lashes and dark eyes, and my breath hitches.
The last button gives.
He parts the coat open—
"Oh shit..."
He pulls in a breath, eyes tracing every inch of me in the black satin wrap-dress under. It's tight, short, and the neckline plunges so low it barely contains my breasts.
I know I could have worn something else, but the self-saboteur in me picked this one.
"Emma, you can't do this to me," he says, but he's already rising, towering over me as his hands land on my hips, making me sit and sliding me back on the table.
"You're evil," he says, voice wrecked, and slips the coat from my shoulders. "I haven't had you in two weeks."
I give him a slow, careless shrug, eyes on him the whole time, like I'm daring him to do something about it. "You opened it without my permission. Consider that your punishment."
One brow lifts, intrigued. "Punishment?" He watches me for a beat. "Does that mean I'm not allowed to touch you?"
My chest heaves, and it would be to my detriment to say anything, so I just shake my head.
"Oh." Something in his face changes—a little flicker ofchallenge that wasn't there before.
His fingers find my chin, tilting my face up the way they always do before he kisses me. "So this isn't allowed?"
I shake my head weakly and mutter a breathy, "No. Not allowed."
He gives me a faint, knowing smile, and the air between us grows thicker.
Then his thumbs trace slow, firm circles on my thighs, over and over, coaxing a shiver I wish I could hide, but it shows all over my skin.
"What about this?" he murmurs.
I shoot him a sharp glare and smack his hand away. "Definitely not allowed. Get away."
He studies me, jaw flexing like he's trying to contain something. Then he leans in and stops just shy of my lips, the two of us breathing the same air.
Instinctively, I move my leg up, bracing against his strong torso, trying to push him with my knee, but he stays put.
Instead, he glances at my foot, then back at me and his mouth curves. His voice comes out low. "Now, you're the one who's touching me, Emma."
I realize my ankle is wedged between his thighs, and he’s already hardening beneath me.
