Malcolm moved his hand a few inches up Alison’s leg, working itself between the loose folds of her skirt. Still, the fabric lay across her lap, but Alison’s heart beat harder as Malcom’s hand stopped on the top of her thigh.
Alison took another sip from her drink. Malcolm watched again as she reached for her glass and her top fell away from her chest then, as she put her arm down again, it again barely covered her. His eyes followed the line of bare skin from her neck, down her chest, and across her stomach. He imagined his lips kissing every inch of bare skin he could see. It had been months since he had last kissed her breasts, and suddenly he could think of nothing else.
“Do you remember last time we were here?” Malcolm asked Alison. She raised an eyebrow, too nervous to articulate words. “Back on our second date, you were wearing a blouse or something, and I think I tried to put my hand inside your top.”
Alison gave a small laughed at the memory. She had slapped at Malcolm’s hand at the time: it was too early in their relationship for her to give in that easily.
Malcolm reached over and put his hand on the top of her breast. “I think I was trying to distract you with a kiss,” he said, and he leaned towards her and their lips met. Alison’s eyes closed and she felt Malcolm’s hand move down her breast to cup her nipple. She gasped a little, but the kiss continued.