“What are you doing?” he murmurs when my fingers dip lower toward the collar of his shirt. I hesitate. “Touching you.” He doesn’t pull away as I expect. Instead, he swallows hard and lets his jaw relax. He tilts his chin in chary invitation to continue my exploration, so I keep going. After a moment, he asks, “Why?” “Geez, Roark, I’m not going to throat-punch you. I just like doing this, okay?”
