*Jayne*
But time marched on.
It is raining on my last day at the cottage. The sky is filled with thick, heavy clouds that blocks out the sun. The rain beating against the windows with a steady, relentless staccato. It is the type of storm that demands one stay in bed.
Even without the storm, I feel like we would have stayed there.
I am nestled against Barkley’s side after a rather rousing session of lovemaking. He skims one finger along my cheek, my chin. Back and forth. Back and forth. Slowly, provocatively.
“I rather like the village,” I say quietly. “I’m going to miss it.”
“You like the gingerbread.” He grins softly.
I smile wickedly. “Yes, I like the gingerbread.”
We’ve taken to going to the village nearly every afternoon. We stroll along the street, browse the shops, and always
