Behind the Plaid
“I felt languid, spoiled. I wrapped the towel Agatha provided, around myself. It was woven wool, soft like cashmere. Picking up the bottle of oil, I sauntered to the bed and sat down. I’d dismissed Agatha, and before she’d left she opened the shutters and daylight streamed into the room, yellow golden streaks across the wooden floorboards and the bed.
I popped the cork on the bottle and dumped a little of the oil into my hands. The scent of mint and herbs wafted up toward my nose. Using a ti...ny amount, I massaged the oil onto my calf, captivated by how it made my skin feel. I tingled, like my flesh was coming alive. It reminded me of Logan and his hands and mouth.
This was why it had been offered to me. Perhaps Agatha believed it was for my skin, but I knew better. Logan wanted me to think of him. Wanted me to remember his hot, velvet mouth and strong, massaging fingers as I rubbed this minty oil over my skin.
Well, he’d won.MoreLess
I popped the cork on the bottle and dumped a little of the oil into my hands. The scent of mint and herbs wafted up toward my nose. Using a ti...ny amount, I massaged the oil onto my calf, captivated by how it made my skin feel. I tingled, like my flesh was coming alive. It reminded me of Logan and his hands and mouth.
This was why it had been offered to me. Perhaps Agatha believed it was for my skin, but I knew better. Logan wanted me to think of him. Wanted me to remember his hot, velvet mouth and strong, massaging fingers as I rubbed this minty oil over my skin.
Well, he’d won.MoreLess
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