The snow fell, quiescent but inexorable, shrouding the Dreaming of Las Vegas in a blanket of white. The wind, a hoarfrost’s razor, cut through the flimsy satin robe as if it weren’t even there, pushing away the folds and baring sun-kissed skin to its frigid caress. Naesin shivered, his skin pebbling in the chill but he remained otherwise still, as
(
Read more... )
Comments 5
Ya know... James is there... ;)
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment