reaches over with his big palm and squeezes my hand, sending a shiver dancing down my spine. “Hey, you doing okay?” This man does not touch me . . . ever. He flirts. A lot. But he never touches, and that’s a good thing because I don’t really like to be touched. And if this is what it feels like, I definitely need us to stay in a touch-free zone. Because for a hot minute, I consider what it would be like to crawl into that bed next to him and feel his arms wrap around me. And that’s not something I do . . . ever.
