A Chapter from Part 2
1949 • Mark Guilbeau
Mamere’s skin was as pale and soft as powder, and Mark loved the cool silk of her cheek against his own and then the sweet kiss, the flutter of vetivert. She ran her fingers through Mark’s blond hair, “I know you’ll be glad to get your own room again, cher.”
Mark nodded, because she was right. He was tired of having Addie always climbing into his bed. And he was looking forward to hanging his turtle pictures and setting up his telescope without worry about Addie getting to it.