This is what I’ll miss the most, I think, when our week is up. Not the touches and the kisses and the way he makes me forget my name with his hands in my hair and his mouth on my neck, but this. Wandering down the little pathway to my cottage and rounding the bend by the big oak tree and seeing Luka through the window, standing at the stove in the kitchen, one of my silly towels over his shoulder. Stepping in the front door and having him brush his lips to mine, the radio turned low in the kitchen. The smell of basil and tomato and garlic. Something sizzling on the stovetop. I don’t know how
...more
Ashley Lynd liked this
