His arms tense as he lowers his head, inhaling long and deep in the curve of my neck. When he speaks, his lips brush the sensitive skin below my ear, and a shiver races from my head to my toes. In a low rasp, he says, “I like the way you feel.” What! He lifts his head, and his raised eyebrows tell me I didn’t just shriek that in my head. “And you won’t admit it,” he says quietly, “but you like the way I feel, too.”
