The touch of Thom's fingers is almost as light as his soft, even breath; there's something strange, something soothing about the delicate ghost of pure skin over scar tissue ( Read more... )

"This?"

"Ugh, no."

"Okay. How about this?"

" -- no. What's that in the back there?"

"What, that? Oh. No, that's supposed to go under things. Like hose, only . . . well, you know. You wouldn't wear it in public."

"Delia wears less sometimes."

"Yes, but -- but why would you ever want to look like Delia ( Read more... )