How many times had I dreamed that Kenet was in my arms? I had long since lost count. And after all the men who had shared my body and touched my skin since last I had seen him, I had begun to doubt my memory of his scent was true.
If it is a dream, let me enjoy it for a while, I thought, as I buried my nose in golden strands and breathed deep. Oh, how my heart ached at that scent, even if imagined.
Mirrored from Circlet Press: Welcome to Circlet 2.0.