Hands Where They Shouldn't Be

His hand was already between my thighs when the front door swung open.
I should've told him to stop. But when his fingers are buried between your thighs, rules don't exist.
It was supposed to be one night.
One taste.
One mistake.
Now he's in my bed, in my head, and everywhere I shouldn't let him be.
We're sneaking around, breaking every boundary-
and I can't get enough.
His hands are everywhere they shouldn't be...
and I never want him to stop.
He was supposed to be off-limits. Now he's under my skin-and between my legs.