Winning For You

He never thought he was a romantic, but Ash thought he could write some

words

about the way she looked at that moment, before shaking it off and

grabbing a

thick towel.

Wrapping her up, squeezing the

excess moisture from her hair, he rubbed her down, easing what were

obviously

tired muscles, to her appreciative moans. Then he carried her to their bed.

“I can’t leave my hair like this.”

Her tired voice pushed him into motion.

All he could find were some twist

ties hanging off the electrical cord to the lamp, but he knew his way around

a

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Hljóðbók: 19 december 2025