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Kindle Notes & Highlights
His eyes are gray, but not dull. Something dazzles in them, like colored stones beneath the surface of the water.
“We don’t fear men in this house,” she tells me. “Men fear us.”
Regis’s hands are slow, methodical even, not calculating but ponderous. They choose their course with care and a sense of wonder, every touch receptive. I can’t imagine him making a fist, though I’m sure he has. He holds me lightly with no desire for constraint, as if it is enough to simply pass over my skin and be left wanting. As if I am liquid and pour through him.
