Dominik
EVEN THOUGH ALL I WANT TO DO IS KEEP WILLOW IN MY BED ALL DAY and night, feeling her soft skin under my hands again, tasting her, burying myself in her heat–she's got a life to attend to, apparently.
So do I. Not that I care about any part of it that doesn't include her at the moment. It's a good day. The autumn air is thick with the promise of rain.
A hint of woodsmoke lingers, someone's fire drifting from miles away. I can hear the faint rush of the river running swollen from the last week's storm.
