I touch the tips of my fingers to the glass, wishing I could trail them down her soft skin. I’ve never been close enough to her to touch her, but I bet it would be like touching a dandelion. Soft, delicate, and can be broken by the slightest puff of breath.

She’s lying on her side, and the curve of her hip sticks up under the sheets. I want to run my hands over that curve to her waist and wrap my arm around her. I want her thick curves molded against me as I spoon her body ...