Phantom fingers tickle across my lower back, where Vincent had touched to brush past. my heart raced at the thought, eyes wide open and alert after hours of sleeplessness. He had touched me at least 10 times at our last meeting. Each caress was nearly too sensual to be considered an accident. A leg pressed up tight against me on the sofa, a loose hand dancing across my shoulders, and even mussing my hair playfully as he came to sit beside me. Each one shot heat down my stomach to between my legs, and caught my breath, sometimes stopping me midway through a thought. And oh god, the way he looked at me, hungry.. I could have sworn I felt his eyes on me all night, when he didn't think I was looking.
But despite all this, he never said one thing about it. Never a "You look so sexy" or, "I want you" or any such obvious thing. Not one hint to suggest we might be more than friends. But honestly, the game he appeared to be playing was exciting enough, I wouldn't want it to end. Imagined or otherwise. I chuckled. Not yet..