He was gentle with his hands. Too gentle. And maybe it was because of his wounds, but Harvey moved like he was afraid of something. She felt it in the way he held her hip. It was firm enough to show he wanted this, yet loose enough to let go. Her lips were warm, a sharp contrast to the metallic taste on the side of his. She dug her hands into his hair and pulled him close, relentless as he pressed back into her. “Harvey,” she whispered in his mouth, but he kissed her quiet. His right hand stayed on her hips. The other slipped underneath the hem of her dress and brushed against the aroused peak of her breasts. A breathless moan escaped her lips. She tried to get closer, but Harvey flinched, his right hand going briefly to his ribs. He drew back from the kiss and rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed. “Do you trust me?” He asked. Chloe nodded. He got up slowly, favoring his right side, and lifted her onto the table. The surface was cold through her dress. He parted he
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