Rita's Point Of View
"Charles, I am serious," I hissed, my hand tightening on his wrist with as much force as I could muster, which wasn't much considering my muscles felt like warm wax. My fingers trembled against his skin. "Stop it. The airport is twenty minutes away."
His hand moved higher. His fingers slid upward, the rough tips of his callouses grazing the absolute, terrifying boundary where the lace edge of my panties met my skin. The sheer intimacy of the touch made my hips twitch involuntarily, a soft, strangled sound escaping the back of my throat.
Heat flooded my cheeks as I realized how completely he'd unraveled me with nothing more than the deliberate movement of his hand. Years apart had done nothing to diminish this power he held over me… if anything, the separation had made my body more responsive, more desperate for his touch.
