Jesse felt as if he was the one who wanted to shout out and create a thunderclap. The contact shock of Hannah’s palm resting lightly against his was more powerful than bedding some women. There was a rightness to it that went beyond anything in his experience. Hannah Tucker wasn’t merely female when he touched her, she exuded it as if she was the very essence of the definition. Like working with an Arabian told a man just what a horse could really be, even if it took some extra nerve to ride.
Ever so slowly, she curled her fingers until they were laced in his as tight as the braid on a horse’s mane all dandified for the state fair. Her hand felt good in his. Delta strong, but her fingers were still fine. Her hand felt feminine, despite the calluses. Or maybe it felt so good because of the
