“He carded his fingers through Bach's gleaming hair. "You're like the sun," he whispered. "What does that make you?" Bach asked, nuzzling his face into the cradle of Einion's hip and untying his stockings with work-nimble fingers. "Common as earth."… — Bran Mydwynter Copy Share Image
“He carded his fingers through Bach's gleaming hair. "You're like the sun," he whispered. "What does that make you?" Bach asked, nuzzling his face… — Bran Mydwynter Copy Share Image
