Her mouth was still on mine, hot and urgent, when her hand slid up my thigh. I gasped against her lips, the sound swallowed by her tongue as it pressed deeper, demanding. She tasted like heat and something sharp, something that made my whole body want to cave.

“God,” she murmured against me, breath ragged, “you’re shaking.”

“I’m not,” I whispered, but my voice betrayed me. My knees brushed hers, trembling, desperate.

Her smirk curved against my mouth, and then she tugged at my wrist, dragging my hand down until it brushed the bare heat beneath her blanket. My breath shattered. She was wet—slick, pulsing, radiating need.

“See?” she breathed,...