“What are you thinking about?”
He was turning my hands over and examining them as if he had never seen such things in his life.
“What do you want to do today?”
He opened my palm and slowly traced the creases with his callused finger like a map.
“Maybe we could go look at the furniture for the room.”
He traced around my fingertips then down around the outside of my hand, down my wrist, onto my forearm.
“I want our baby to have the same hands as you. Soft, pink, and strong.”
I pulled away suddenly feeling very hot.
By the way this one is really really good. It twangs me just right for some reason.
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