Jog my memory my ass. How about confessing you want to touch me as well?
I roll my eyes in my head, looking at him straight in the face whilst maintaining my innocent facade. Who knew trying not to bite one's lip would be so hard? It's like my body has a mind of its own despite my reputable self-control.
I fake a gasp. "What are you doing, Desmond? You promised not to touch me without consent."
He searches into my eyes for a moment, probably waiting for me to slip up, but I don't. I've been acting since Amelia married my dad, this is nothing new. Although I have to admit, acting in front of Desmond is hard. How can it be simple? He's everything I want in a man delivered to me on a silver platter. I'm just the one too scared to open it and see what's inside lest I get disappointed with what I get.
After noticing my unwavering innocence, Desmond finally lets go of my thighs. I suppress a groan of disapproval when the warmth of his hands leaves my skin.
