She must have realised he had not moved in ages, no crossing or uncrossing of legs, no turning of pages, not even breath.“What is it, Samuel?” she asked, going motionless herself.Damn his colouring for showing the furious red that burned on the surface. Momentarily, his voice failed him, then his mind as it blanked. In a struggle to react and answer, he said the first thing that came to his mouth.“I’d like to see you,” the shameful request aired low and hoarse, he swallowed hard and tried to apologise, but no words came.Her feminine nostrils took in air in a faint gasp, but did not release it. “You’re seeing me,” she replied in a silky tone.He could take it back and claim misunderstanding. Or he could reiterate it, repeat it, delight himself in the mere idea of it if she became outraged.“Can I-can I see you, that is ... well ... you know,”The revealing blush covered even the tips of her shapely ears. “You mean you want—” her lashes fluttered in the heavy silence that ensued.“Yes, I. This wasn’t how she had imagined it would be. In her day dreaming, she had the upper hand throughout the encounter and, although she hadn’t really thought about the mechanics in any great detail, had him at her mercy. This was completely out of her control and Mr. French was very much in charge. She stood with her back to him, trembling, unknowing and, if she was totally honest, scared shitless. He unclipped her bra which fluttered to the ground and ran a fingertip from the nape of her neck all the way down her back, between her shoulder blades to the top of her ass crack. She shivered violently, as if suddenly touched by an ice cube. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her briefs and tugged them down until gravity took over and they ended up around her ankles. Suzanne stepped out of them on trembling legs that threatened to give way under her. Shifting closer so that his knees touched the back of hers, he slid his hands around her waist till they met at her stomach. He.
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