"Fuck, that's hot," Tragos said, laughing at her annoyance, and smiling to himself as he drove. "I'm thinking about my fingers too," he took one hand off the wheel and trailed it up over her now bare thigh. Her skin was so warm against his cool hands, and impossibly soft as his rougher fingers moved higher, and he brushed his fingertips over the hand between her legs before returning his hand to the steering wheel. The pulse of desire was throbbing between his legs as surely as it was throbbing between hers. "Keep going."