I can see the dominoes with my fingers—touch is just as good as sight.
Thinking of this, he produced it from the holster with a flick of his fingers.
The fingers thrust at his throat—he seemed to be tearing his own flesh.
The fingers that held the petal tingled, and a flush rose in her cheek.
He sliced it into bits, and she took them daintily from between his fingers.
It made her interlace her fingers with nervous anxiety, but it set a fire in her eyes.
Something freezing cold was beginning at the tips of his fingers.
Her fingers were stiff, but so was her will: the way she stuck to her work was pathetic.
Her hand was in her pocket, and a bright coin was between her fingers.
You might not have noticed them, but it seemed to Sallie that her fingers had touched everywhere.