“His fingers have been slowly lacing through my hair.”

“If instead of having ten fingers, I had ten combs for fingers, I'd love to meet Donald Trump, just so I could run my fingers through his hair.”

“His hand glides down my arm, folds over my hand. His fingers lace with mine, palms kissing. I can feel the fast thud of his heart through this single touch.”

“Lacing my fingers through his, I studied them. His fingers were so much longer than mine, and I envisioned what those fingers could do. And how long they would take to do it before they sent me over the edge. - Lacey”

“Are you sure you’re not too tired?” Taylor taunted, lacing her fingers through his hair and pulling him between her legs. “Although you do seem to have a lot of energy for a thirty-nine-year-old.”Jason grabbed her by the back of the neck, pulling her mouth to his. “Thirty-eight, smart-ass. I have a December birthday.”

“When he laces his fingers through mine, my heart does its now familiar panicked flight, bumping painfully against my ribs. My shoulder twitches as if to pull my hand back, but my heart overrules it.”