His slender white hand appeared on my shoulder, a spill of white lace around it, and a flare of black velvet sleeve framing that lace. I so did not need another man tied to me by metaphysics that demanded a piece of my bed, or at least my body. Since most of our time was spent out in the field, or cemetery as it were, I thought the new offices were a waste of money, but I'd been outvoted. He looked up, hope showing momentarily in his pale eyes.
I said the last with feeling. It would disrupt business. Yeah, stripping made her feel good and bad all at the same time. He was so close to us that not touching took effort, so close it was as if a sigh would have pressed the line of his body against mine.
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