Andrey's lips traced the column of Sein's neck, feeling her pulse flutter beneath his mouth. She tasted like salt and warmth, and every small sound she made—breathy, surprised, helpless—sent blood rushing south.
"Anh…" Sein's fingers tightened in his hair, not pulling him away but holding him there. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her lips parted. Inside her mind, a voice whispered: 'Why… why am I so sensitive when he touches me…?'
Andrey's hand slid under the hem of her shirt, fingertips brushing the bare skin of her stomach. Sein shivered, a soft gasp escaping her. He pushed the fabric upward, exposing her black sports bra—practical, no frills, but stretched taut over her chest.
He was about to pull the shirt over her head when—
The phone rang.
Loud. Sharp. Insistent.
Andrey froze, his hand still on her stomach. Sein's eyes flew open, her face flushed and confused.
