of his palm as it moved up her leg.
‘You seem kind of jumpy, Sabrina.’ His palm slid under the silky material of her dress. ‘Why is that?’
‘I think you know why, Connor.’ Delicious tingles radiated up the inside of her thigh under his trailing fingers.
Fine, if he wanted to play, she’d play. They were in a restaurant, surrounded by his family and her friends–how far could he go?
A lot further than you’d anticipated came the indisputable reply as his palm rose higher in devastatingly slow increments, undaunted. The flickering candlelight seemed to cloak them in a strange sort of anonymity in the crowded room—plus nobody was paying them any attention.
Even Libby, who had been checking up on her and Connor with alarming regularity throughout the evening—and sending not-remotely-subtle encouragement via her hyperactive eyebrows—was busy ignoring them while she fed Jamie spoonfuls of white-chocolate brownie.
‘Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,’ he taunted as the rough palm climbed perilously close to the juncture of her thighs.
Sabrina shuddered—and clamped her knees together, trapping his wandering fingers before the hot, unyielding lump in her stomach plummeted any further south.
One dark brow lifted fractionally, his thumb stroking in slow circles as he made no move to remove his hand. But then she had to admit she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted him to. The slow curl of his lips as he watched her reaction was an impossibly tempting invitation to sin.
‘I don’t remember giving you permission to touch me.’ She squeezed his trapped fingers to emphasise the point. Given all the spin classes she did religiously he ought to be feeling quite contrite by now, but he didn’t even flinch.
‘And I don’t remember asking for it.’ His fingers flexed as his thumb slid perilously close to the sensitive seam of flesh at the top of the thigh where the edge of her knickers lay.
Her lungs clogged, electricity shimmering towards her already throbbing clitoris.
‘Surely your mother must have mentioned the rule about not groping women in public?’ she demanded, disguising her breathlessness. She hoped.
The glint in his eye took on a feral gleam. ‘Open your legs, Sabrina.’
Her thigh muscles quaked at the command, but she shook her head. ‘I think that would be dangerous.’
‘What are you so scared of? That you’ll like it?’
The challenging taunt struck right at the heart of all her insecurities. Carl had always accused her of being too safe, too boring. And her parents had told her on numerous occasions she lacked fire, lacked courage.
Her muscles loosened and she spread her knees to make a point. But before she had a chance to rethink the sudden burst of recklessness, his hand cupped the damp gusset of her panties. And all thinking stopped.
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