“Stop.” Presley’s voice trembles, and her hand presses firmly against my chest.
“STaken aback, I drop my hands immediately.
We freeze together in the dark, panting. I’m burning up; I’ve undressed her already, only her lacy black bra remains, and I ache to finish the job. I could feel that she wanted me when I touched her at the bar. So, why is she calling a time-out?
I’m the one who should be pissed off—not her. One touch, and she has me losing all control.
I flip on the light so I can meet her eyes while she explains herself. “Are you going to have a hard time following instructions on this trip?” I ask, my voice still low and husky with the desire she so abruptly blocked.
Presley is flushed too, but she stares back defiantly. “I don’t want you like this. This version of you . . .”
