Grace drifted her hands under Neil’s clothes, finding smooth and yielding skin, sensitive spots that she knew, old scars she had to touch. “I need you.” She hoped he wouldn’t hear, but he did.
Above her, Neil paused, his face softening and wrinkling, looking older. He kissed her again, his tongue rejecting her this time even as it slipped between her lips. “You know we can’t,” he said. “It never works with us.”
But she knew this protest. She knew him. Grace shifted beneath him so he could feel her sex hot around his thigh. “I know,” she said, but her hands kept moving, her fingertips under his jeans toying with the waistband of his boxers. “You don’t have to stay,” she said. “We should forget about this.”
He glared at her and laughed, propping himself up on one arm so he could rub his face with the other. “You don’t mean that at all.”
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