Jason stroked a hand over his side, his hip, a thigh. “Good thing you’re not ticklish. Wouldn’t be able to do this andlet you drink coffee at the same time.”
“I do like you touching me.” He heard the words as he said them, with some surprise; he drowned the surprise behind another quick sip, hunting equilibrium.
Months ago he would’ve not said that. He would’ve not wanted this: being touched so intimately by someone so large and powerful and commanding. Or he would have wantedit; that would’ve been the problem. Too many confusing emotions, between what he ached to have and what he feared.
He nibbled a blueberry or two mostly as a distraction, not thinking about anything much.
The line reappeared between Jason’s eyebrows. “You sure you’re okay? You’re being quiet.”
“I was thinking about how glad I am to have met you.” He stretched up to press a kiss to the underside of Jason’s jaw. “I don’t alwayshave to talk.”
“You?”
“Fair point. Can I open this now?”