Avery Tomlin always had words waiting behind his lips. All kinds of conversations to make you hand over your birthright and your heart with a smile. To rob you of sorely sought vengeance and deprive you of a virtue you meant to save for someone equally starry-eyed. To make you mad, to run you through with wrath so you would make a mistake in whatever game you were playing with him. All these boiling and potent words, barely sleeping, ready to tumble out like weapons and caresses, had made his lips lush like glans on snakes. A dangerous mouth, because it looked like a lure. He'd let her put her fingers on it when she learned to know him at the terminal. He'd insisted.<br/><br/>The sound of those words was deep, because he took his time speaking. Her family had been susceptible to its power, when he'd called and her parents demanded to converse, as parents do, to sway the flight of their children.<br/><br/>She'd let him help her with those hands. He'd touched her a lot, on their ride. The farm wouldn't have let anyone else take their precious, sightless daughter away. Mr. Tomlin had been all too eager to supply his time with a promise of safe arrival. He liked her shoulders, every time there was a red light, as though he didn't have her attention already, and the low of her back when they were walking. It wasn't herding, she could go where she wanted, but familiar, instead. They'd exchanged plenty of thoughts, already.<br/><br/>She could tell he was tall, by the placement of his chest and the angle of his arm when he reached down to measure her spine while they danced through the other bodies at the airport. A light day on her cheeks, warm like only the sun could be through large windows. And he smelled like whatever detergent was best for his suit, and personal notes, also. Cologne as a courtesy, but not too much. He'd rather her nose know the real him.<br/><br/>He had asked about he trip and the plane, and suffered with her about the pressure in cabins. Very low music in the car, if she wanted, so that they could continue good conversation. His command of small topics were masterful.<br/><br/>In truth, Avery had a royal time gathering her. She was a new thing. He liked to learn about beautiful women. And what a novelty. The little, necessary physical contact was scrumptious to him, like learning about the care of a new treasure. Only valuable things are delicate. He wondered, of course, what her eyes would look like when her body was quaking, or if he skin would be more eager or starved if he propositioned it. Her parents had kept her serene for him, and he was now going to take his time in undoing all their loving work.<br/><br/>The car came to a soundless stop in front of the building he owned. She couldn't know the full size of the structure unless her mother told her after having seen it on a screen, but at least she could guess, by how it eclipsed the heat of the sun she got through the spotless windshield. "Again, Skye, I think many people inside are eager to meet you." he said and danced his fingertips over her knuckles, to ask to hold her hand, from where he sat by the wheel.<br/><br/>"It's hot here, sometimes." he explained and then dared his first liberty, trailing his touch over her arm and toward her neck, where he tugged at her collar, finger sliding over skin underneath. It was a practical hint, that she should unbutton if she wanted, but he'd only done it for the intimacy. "Derek Fulson intends to show you around." more conversation to let her know his mouth was coming closer to her cheek. "But you'll be working mostly by my office, won't you?" Joy in his voice. She could read it as friendly if she wanted to, but there was some thrumming excitement there, too. "Let me get the door."<br/><br/>And after the door, she'd have his arm as he escorted her inside. His decisive steps were generally comforting, but they also gossiped about his lack of forgiveness for failure in adherence.