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I could close the distance.

I don't.

Neither does he.

Not immediately.

The anticipation stretches between us until my skin feels too tight for my body.

His fingers finally catch the hem of my shirt. But instead of immediately pulling it off, his knuckles skim the bare skin above my leggings.

Barely anything.

A stolen touch. Except there's nobody here to steal it from.

My breath catches anyway. Mitchell notices. He notices everything about me. His eyes find mine again.

“You okay, Firecracker?”

There it is.

The question he always asks. The choice he always gives me. And tonight it means too much.

Because I'm not afraid of what he's going to do to my body.

I'm afraid of what he's already doing to my heart.

“Yeah.”

His fingers remain against my skin.

“Yeah?”

I nod.

“I'm okay.”

Something passes through his eyes.

Relief?

Tenderness?

God, I don't know.

I wish I didn't want to.

“You're so fucking sexy,” he growls, tugging my bra off my shoulders.

“Mitchell,” I whimper, my fingers skating over his abs.

His muscles tighten beneath my touch. I like that.

Maybe more than I should.

Mitchell Knight is so controlled everywhere else. He walks into boardrooms and people straighten. He makes decisions involving more money than most people will see in a lifetime without raising his voice.

But I touch him and his breathing changes.