CHAPTER 9

ISLA

“You—ah—stop—”

Say you like it.

“I—” My voice shook. “I like it.”

Louder.

“I like it,” I whispered, shame and heat colliding in my chest.

His hands moved again, one snaking back up to squeeze my breast, the other slipping lower — under my coat, over my skirt.

“He’s—”

Touching you.

His palm cupped me from behind, fingers finding the heat between my thighs even through the fabric. I gasped, hips jerking.

“Please—”

Don’t beg to ...