“I’m not used to people touching me. Well, in a non-threatening way, I mean. Try to punch me, and I’m in my comfort zone, but hugs and cuddles aren’t exactly in my wheelhouse,” I blurt awkwardly. His joking smile disappears. “Sorry,” he offers. “No, I like it,” I rush and then realize how that sounds. “I mean, the sisters have been hugging me a lot, being affectionate to help me get used to it. So it would probably help if you touch me, too.” I stop, repeating my words in my head, and I cringe. Knox gets a mischievous glint in his eyes.
