C52 52

I nod, and I think I might whimper. Am I really expected to form words right now?

“Think on that for me.” His hand slips under my T-shirt, and shit, I want more. His palm runs over my belly. His fingertips dip under the waistband of my jeans. “Think about it in the shower. At dinner. When you dance tonight.” He drops his face to the crook of my neck and takes a deep breath