And he was touching her, and she wasn’t pushing him away, was enjoying the contact with him. She curled her fingers around his, stubbornly relishing...every second that she could tell herself later had been weakness. ‘As if,’ she tried to smile. ‘Not modest, are you, Nicky?’ His heart was still in his throat at the way she had wrapped her hand around his, holding on to him, trusting him. He hadn’t expected this gift, this moment of gentleness between the two of them, of closeness that was even. Carly’s slim twenty-three year old body shook, as he approached, once again not out of fear, but excitement. Her shoulder length red hair hung freely in curls, green eyes tried to show playfulness to her slightly angry counterpart. Her b-cup breats rose and fell in her white tank top, as she tried to suck in air for her slightly tired body. Her hands smoothed out the jean skirt that she had on with it. Carly had been talking with Trevor every weekday, for the past two months. He owned a. More

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