He let his hand linger on D’s shoulder, his thumb sweeping across the skin over his clavicle. D was facing forward, his eyes lowered to the tabletop; all by itself, his hand slid up and over Jack’s hip, slipping beneath the hem of his shirt to rest against the small of his back. Jack watched D’s profile, but his expression didn’t change. The intimacy of the touch sent warmth radiating from the point of contact, but Jack didn’t try anything.
