He hadn't said a single word since he started kissing her again. And neither had she. She couldn't even find words even if she wanted to say something.
His mouth left her breast and found her lips once again as he pressed her body on the wall. Both his hands now roamed her entire body, squeezing and pressing her everywhere.
She cried into his mouth when he squeezed her breasts. Weighing them, sizing them against his palm. Massaging them through the fabric.
Oh, was she supposed to be doing this? He had promised not to touch her, and yet she had reached for him, had successfully seduced him— in a way. And Lyle, lords! Lyle, he'd understand her, right? He'd understand that she was doing this for them both. He'd love her still, wouldn't he? She believed in their love. It was true love, and true love would understand. Lyle would understand her. He'd still love her.
