Her heart hammered in her chest. His hand still stroked her hair and his other arm was wrapped around her waist, holding her close to him. “You’re touching me,” she said from where her head rested against his chest. “If I could lie to you, I’d tell you it was a necessity, but it’s not. I just wanted to hold you,” he answered. “And if I told you I wanted you to touch me more?” she whispered. She started tracing one of those tattoos on his chest with her finger, slowly following the swirls and whorls of it. His hand stilled on her hair. After an extended silence, he pushed out a long breath. “I
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