He let go of her hand and she felt the loss physically somewhere inside her. It wasn't intentional though, she knew that somehow.
And shite. They were fucked.
"Yeah." Her hand came up to rest on top of the table while her other one reached for her drink.
"I can't stop thinking about you, about the way it feels when you touch me, about the way you look at me," she said quietly, looking at the drink and not at him. "I keep trying and trying, but I can't stop."