Then you're in my arms, those wet scorching lips are devouring my mouth, breathing heavily already. I run my hand up your back, pressing you tight aga...nst me, tongues wrestling playfully.... Your t-shirt is old, faded from many washings, worn thin from years of use and it clings to your curves as if it fully appreciates the privilege. I can feel that there's nothing beneath it but you, and the realization pours through me in a rush. I grow hard and thick beneath my cut-offs; pressed as tightly. I still do.’ Simon was silent, watching her. She didn’t really think that, he was sure. She was . . . well, he didn’t know what she was doing. Staving off embarrassment? Letting him down easy? Avoiding her feelings? ‘How do we know that?’ He took another step closer. ‘You haven’t asked me. I haven’t asked you. So how do we know?’ Connie had no idea what to say. She was battling two competing impulses. One urged her to be honest with Simon, the other called for more caution. But was there. More

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