““His thumb smoothed over the tiny red marks the pins had made on her palm, and he brought her hand to his face to kiss the little sore spots. His voice curled hotly inside her palm. "Your hand smells like lemons." She opened her eyes and stared at him gravely. "I scrub my hands with lemon juice to remove the ink stains." The information seemed to amuse him, and lights of humor mixed with the heat in his gaze.””
