It was supposed to be the start of some great big, pleading sentence. Something about how she needed him to touch her or something equally lusty, but she couldn't manage to finish the thought when his fingers brushed the bottom of her bra. A simple thought and it could have disappeared, but she didn't. She couldn't do that to him. Not now.
"I could let you," is what she said instead, her back arching so he could touch her more. Without meaning to, her fingers curled in his waistband. A soft moan escaped.