At ten that night, Summer walked in with a mug of hot milk, tilted her head to glance at the files on his desk. "What's this?"
"Nothing much." Ethan Laurent casually gathered all the documents off the desk, hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her down to sit on his lap.
"Still not sleeping?" His gaze drifted over her loose bathrobe, his fingertips curling around the sash, playing with it lazily. His hand slid inside her robe, squeezing and stroking the bare skin he found there.
His palm was warm, with a very thin layer of callus. When it skimmed over her skin, a shiver of tingling followed; Summer's back went a little rigid.
"It's still early. Came to see if you needed any help." She only wriggled uneasily, but didn't push his hand away.
Like this, she was clearly indulging Ethan's behavior.
