Then he imagined his fingers brushing over her throat, delicately so as not to wake her. Wouldn't want to disturb her peaceful repose. He imagined encircling her neck with his two hands, palms angled out, thumbs hovering over her trachea. The marks he made didn't show right away—the bruises that would form where he grabbed her suddenly and squeezed, pressing the ball of his thumbs into the soft spot of her throat, just below the jaw.