The first touch was a feather above his ear, like he’d accidentally brushed against a wispy leaf. His breath caught. A surge of heat blazed ahead of Rafe’s fingers, racing to Sullivan’s nape and down the toughened flesh along his spine. It spread when it hit his hips, rushing to fill his entire body, and he braced against the desire to grab Rafe’s wrist and make him stop before Sullivan embarrassed himself.
“I can’t believe it doesn’t hurt.” Rafe edged forward, leaning into Sullivan’s side as he traced it all the way to the back. “What about sensation? Can you feel me when I do this?”
He had to swallow once in order to get his voice to work. “Yeah.”
“I’m not sure growing your hair out will do much to hide it. The blond’s too light.”