My hands fell limp to my sides. He turned to look at me, and we were in the bright halogen lights of the street, so I could see his face clearly. But inside I was kicking myself, because it was so simple. He angled himself downward so he could push between my thighs.
I didn't know how to stop this without being cruel. I think safety in numbers was our best bet. I'd finally found the lock for my subconscious, which meant I had to bring the ardeur out on purpose, not just get out of its way, or stop fighting it, but truly had to coax it to life. He'd changed out of the Guilty Pleasures shirt without being asked.
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