He continued fingering her, slow at first, then pressing deeper, curling his fingers just enough to make her legs jerk. He wasn't even looking at what he was doing. He was looking at her face, his expression calm, almost peaceful, like he was listening to music only he could hear.
And she hated that face. She hated the way his gaze pinned her like she was some delicate thing he was admiring when she knew better.
Her thighs started to tremble. She could feel her body reacting against her will. Her breath kept coming faster. She tried to clench her jaw, to hold everything in, but a soft sound slipped out anyway.
He caught it. Of course he did. His eyes warmed instantly, as if her tiny, humiliating moan was exactly the gift he'd been waiting for.
It was in that look. That quiet, knowing softness that said, I know you want this.
She wanted to slap it right off his face.
