“Rooney.” His grip on my hand tightens. I stop resisting and peer up at him. “Yes?” Slowly he sets my hand back before reaching for the other and massaging that one. “Please don’t put words in my mouth. I—” Swallowing slowly, he slides his thumb down my palm, making me arch reflexively in pleasure. “Sometimes I just need time to say what I want. It’s harder when people jump in.” “Sorry,” I whisper. “I get nervous when I talk about it.” He nods. “I understand. But you don’t need to, with me.”
