When I examined you for ‘ill humors’ I longed to run my hands over your entire body, to touch your face, to caress you in the places that would give you pleasure. While he was meditating flight in this way, and tossing about on the straw, he chanced upon an old broken and rusty fork. ‘Can’t you trust me a little?’ His touch sent shivers running through her, but Melusine did not withdraw her hand. He drew her to him and tipped her chin towards him. When he reached the happy ending, he waited. She could smell him almost as strongly as she could the new paint on the fire escape walls, along with the wool suit and the weird polyester smell of his wet umbrella. "Where is the boy?" demanded Sir Rowland.
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