“Or so it felt, his touch making her believe in the fiction of them.”
“And he stood so closely behind her that she felt his breath feather her neck. Blanche leaped away, putting a polite distance between them, her heart suddenly thundering in her chest. His body hadn't touched hers, but it might as well have, for she had felt his heat.”
“His hand still rested on her breast, but his fingers had stilled. The touch that had been so agitating now felt comforting. As though he soothed her by it.”
“Her lips touched his brain as they touched his lips, as though they were a vehicle of some vague speech and between them he felt an unknown and timid preasure, darker than the swoon of sin, softer than sound or odor.”
“He gently touched his mother's cheek, felt her sorrow slip over his fingertips.”
“Good fiction makes the truth believable.”