“Yeah, well, in the name of unconditional honesty you should probably cover your skanky forearms before we start the session.” He’s traded his tacky crewnecks for an olive-green linen shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows to accommodate the unseasonably warm fall day, the sun through the open window burnishing the fine dusting of hair along his arms. “Jesus, Eva, put that female gaze away and stop undressing me with your eyes.” He grips his open collar like he’s clutching at pearls.
