Hemingway enjoyed the hand on his knee. He'd take as much contact as she'd let him get away with in public. And he wasn't jealous about the past - as much as it drove him crazy to think about other men touching her, he couldn't get angry about the past. He had plenty of sordid stories of his own. It didn't change the present, with her body warm against his, and her words driving him to distraction.
"All wrapped up like a gift, huh?" he teased lightly, staying good and close. "And what did he want you to do?" he asked, his lips finding her neck just for a moment.