"Let go of me." She gritted.
Ian's hold on her tightened like he was programmed to do just the exact opposite of what he was asked to do.
She released her hold on his neck, rested her palms flat against his chest, and she tried to push away from him, but he didn't even as much as budge. He just watched her with a blank expression.
"Sera," he whispered softly, stroking her exposed thigh and she froze.
She stared straight into his eyes, trying to hold her breath, but it was impossible, seeing as it changed pattern and because rapid and uneven due to Ian's gentle strokes of her thigh.
"You shouldn't be doing this." She whispered in a deeper tone of voice, and her hand on his chest squeezed at the fabric of his shirt. Her nails biting into his flesh.
"Doing what?"
He trailed his finger tips further up the sides of her thighs, and she dug her nails further into his skin, bit she didn't draw blood.
