He arches a brow, making sure I’m aware that he’s aware of what I’m doing. Unfortunately, I don’t get to see which part of my body he decides to focus on because all of my attention goes to the box he slides across the counter to me. It’s still warm from his skin when it reaches me, and my eyes fall shut momentarily, relishing the sensation. The presence of it on the hard material reminding me of the years I’ve lived with its absence on my skin.
