His fingers moved around her torso. Her toes curled. Should she mention the tattoos her husband had always considered tacky?
She made a decision to start dying her hair. And stop eating ice cream. As much.
He pulled off his gloves.
“All done. I’ll leave you to get dressed.”
Never again. She’d put off her widow’s weeds, start living and when a lover did come her way—for he surely would—she would be ready.