Her breath catches. He should be able to feel the way the muscles in her neck tense, and how her heartbeat picks up the pace a little.

Right, now his hands have wandered over the line, full-force into 'naughty' territory.

"You filthy bastard."

It's whispered without the slightest ounce of heat. She curls one hand in his hair, while her other does in fact slide down his arm and carefully removes his hand from her breast. But she doesn't push him far, and once he's at a more respectable position her hand sneaks under his suit jacket, following the waistband of his trousers to the small of his back.