“She became aware of his hands, moving up both sides of her, sliding up from her waist to her rib cage. Bad news. Instinctively she knew that it was “either-or.” Either she opened her mouth and let the mad tongue in – or he was going to, sure as God made little apples, grab her little apples. The choice, she knew, was hers – for he lingered there, simultaneously, in both areas of combat, as if to say, “You have five seconds, take your pick.”
