“I think it started something like this,” I said, taking his hand and guiding it around my waist. I laid my own hand against his chest, sliding it up to his neck where I could feel his pulse hammering beneath his skin.

He sat rigid beneath me, every muscle tense, as if he knew that once he started moving he’d never be able to stop. “That never should have happened,” he said.

“But it did happen. Just like the kiss at the studio today happened. Are you going to keep lying to yourself and pretending that you don’t want this?” I shifted my hips forward, grinding down on a part of him that was clearly very interested in continuing with the evening’s performance.

“I’m not lying to myself. I know I want this,” he gritted out through his teeth.

Finally! Was that so hard to say?

“But it’s still never going to happen.”