“It’s just one of those things that you don’t expect to be sexy, but then it is. Just like your tattoo.” Her finger drags over the ink. “It’s really simple, understated, yet it looks incredibly hot on you.”

“Is that all you want to touch?” I ask her, loving that she’s taking free rein.

“No.” Her eyes meet mine.

“What else do you want to touch?” I nearly whisper.

“Your stomach,” she says.

“Have at it, babe.” I scoot down a little on the chair and lift up my shirt between us, showing off my abs.

She immediately sighs and then moves her fingers over my stomach with zero hesitation but instead ready to own me with her touch. “This can’t be real.” Divot by divot, she lets her fingers explore, and I watch her eyes intently as they grow with hunger.

“It’s real,” I say.

And then to my surprise, she moves her hand up my stomach to my chest and over my left pec. Her palm connects with my nipple as she coyly smirks.

“You’re feeling me up, Pips. Nipple and all.”

Her cheeks blush. “Matt was never fit, and that’s fine, but being near you, getting a chance to feel muscles like this, I don’t know, it’s kind of addicting. I like all your contours and sinew. Is that weird of me to say?”

“No,” I say as I allow my shirt to fall down, but she keeps her hand in place, letting her fingers run over my stomach until they reach the waistband of my shorts. “Watch it there, Pips. You don’t want to get too close.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want that,” she says and then pulls away, leaving my skin on fire. “Okay, your turn.”

“To touch you?” I shake my head. “Anything I want to touch would be incredibly inappropriate in public.”

“And what would that be?”

I give her a “get real” look. “Scottie. Minutes ago, I went off about how hot your tits and ass are. You really think I’m about to feel you up?”

“I just felt you up.”

“That’s different.”

“How so?” she asks.

“I don’t know, but it feels different.”

She rolls her eyes, picks up my hand, and places it on her breast.

Our eyes meet, and I say, “Wow, this is really sexy.”

She chuckles and says, “Give me a squeeze.”

“Scottie.”

“I’m serious, Wilder. Feel me.”

I’m tempted. I’m so fucking tempted, but also, I know one squeeze won’t be enough. “Scottie.” I swallow. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m making you touch my breast. Do you think I’m uncomfortable?” she shifts on my lap. “Just feel me, Wilder.”

The way she says it, with a pleading tone, it almost breaks me.

Almost…

“Babe, I’m not going to⁠—”

“Time’s up,” Sanders says. “Move on to the next chair.”