Forbidden Affectionate
He walked around the table instead and I turned to track him and he stopped close, closer than necessary, and looked at me with that expression I had spent all night refusing to name.
"None of it," he said quietly. "You don't sleep through any of it." His hand came up and he pressed two fingers briefly to my jaw, just a touch, just contact, tilting my face up slightly, and his eyes moved across my face in a way that was not strategic or calculated. "But you cannot think straight when you're in it this deep and you know that."
I looked at him and the room was very quiet and his fingers were still there and I reached up and took his wrist, not to remove it, just to hold it, and I felt his puls
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