His hand lowers to settle against my shoulder where his thumb can stroke my racing pulse. Ripples of torment overtake that dark gaze. “Do I make you uncomfortable when I do things like this?” He swallows, sitting up some. “I want to touch you.” His mouth snaps closed, like he didn’t mean to say that. I can’t believe what I just heard. He wants to touch me? I close my mouth, trying to avoid thinking about how much I want to touch him. “That came out wrong,” he breathes, closing his hand and removing his touch. “I mean I like being near you.”
