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How do you know that’s what Michael’s thinking?
Because I know him. And because that’s how I feel every time I’m with you and have to pay attention to something else at the same time.
I’m that much of a distraction?
Absolutely. In the best possible way. I’ve had at least six professional acquaintances comment on how much more pleasant I am to be around when you’re there.
I laugh softly. Michael squeezes my thigh lightly. I look up, but he’s still in conversation with the other men at the table, but I take that little squeeze as “love you.”
I look back down at my phone and text Nathan.
Michael’s pretty caught up in his colleagues. Maybe he’s got better self-control than you do.
Oh, he definitely does. But I guarantee he’s thinking about running his hand up your thigh right now.
You don’t even know that he can reach my thigh.
He can. He might be socializing but he’s got you right next to him.
I love that my guys know one another so well too. There’s something about it that makes me feel as warm as I do when I realize how well one of them knows me.
Okay, you’re right. We’re at the table, eating dinner, I’m next to him on one side.
Where is he touching you?
How do you know he’s touching me at all?
Where, Danielle?
He’s so sure Michael’s got a hand on me. I like that too. I love how my guys like watching each other with me. Especially when it comes to hands-on stuff.
I have an idea of how to make thisreallyfun.
For all three of us.
CHAPTER 7
Dani
I text Nathan again.
His hand is on my thigh.
Under your skirt?
I study the back of Michael’s big hand. I love his hands. Not only are they large and strong, with thick fingers, but they’re so capable.
He takes care of patients with those hands, evaluating and treating injuries in seconds, his mind and hands working quickly to take care of the Racketeers.
I love watching him cook. When he’s cutting, stirring, whipping, chopping he’s completely in control as he creates the most amazing, delicious things for all of us. Cooking is definitely one of his love languages.
When he holds my hand in one of his, he always makes me feel cared for and safe. When he cups my cheek or brushes my hair back from my face, I feel loved and cherished. And those hands can give me pleasure beyond anything even my romance-writing-dirty-mind could dream up.
But that hand is now just resting right above my knee. Definitely not under my skirt.
I want to see what Nathan says.
What would you do right now if it was your hand?
