Salviana whispered, almost too quiet to be heard, "You… do you like touching me?"
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he nodded. "I like touching you, wife. More than I thought I would."
With Salviana, Alaric felt something new stirring—a desire to bridge the very distance he'd always kept, to touch and feel. For as long as he could remember, his gloves had served as a barrier, a protection not only from others but from the sharp, raw sensations that even a slight brush against his skin could stir.
Yet with her, that wall felt increasingly irrelevant, and the idea of hiding behind his gloves felt... wrong. He'd never exposed his hands, his touch, to anyone as he did with Salviana. He found himself instinctively pulling them off in her presence, his fingers itching to explore the softness of her skin, to feel her warmth without restraint, wondering if she could feel the same intensity in each caress that he did.
