Chapter 65

• A week of not touching blew up around them instantly. It could have been a lifetime, the way things escalated so rapidly. Without breaking contact, Simon lifted Sara from her seat and moved them over to the lush banquette behind them. He took his mouth from hers and she followed him momentarily, as if loath to break even that point of touch. He laid her back against the huge cushions, gently, reverently.
• He shrugged off his sweater, revealing a dark shirt underneath, and Sara watched with heavy-lidded eyes as he smoothed a hand down one of her thighs. She arched her back even at that chaste touch; every part of her seemed to be so sensitive, tingling. She wore thigh-high black socks and zip up leather ankle-boots; she felt Simon bend down and slip them off her feet before his hand traveled back up one leg, right up to where the sock ended and her flesh screamed for his touch. He smoothed that hand further up her thigh, causing her dress to ride up, and when his hand reached where her panties covered the moistening apex of her thighs, she stopped him.
• Desperate need tinged her voice even as she said, “We can’t, not here. They could walk in.”