smiled, vaguely

“Here,” she said, handing him the cool, damp towel. Kicking off her shoes, she reached for the light switch. “Let me get a look at you.” Steven turned his dark eyes up to her, lost and grateful. “Poor baby,” she said tenderly. “You look like you just lost a fight.” Steven touched the terrycloth to his lip gingerly, slowly pressing it closer. He smiled, vaguely.

Lord Malinov, Flowers of Malinov

About Lord Malinov

Lord Malinov, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet
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