Or maybe five years dead wasn't enough time to learn to hide that well. I'd kissed this mouth less than two hours ago, and it wasn't the same mouth. That's it. His face was still pleasant, unreadable, hidden.
I think he liked me as a person, but we were about to do his job. Pretty words, but I'm surrounded by some of the most beautiful men living or dead. It was as if I could suddenly touch them, as if my hand shot through Malcolm's palm, through him, and into their bodies. But I knew with his knowledge that bare skin was bare skin, and all of it could drink me down.
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