Plant a quilt on a sunny rooftop and your harvest will be someone napping on it.

He spoke softly as she nuzzled his neck and jaw, his arms tightening around her waist as if she’d magically slip through his fingers.

“Match made in heaven—blessed by fate, hunted by many.”

He gasped softly against her lips as her hands found their way into his hair. And nuzzled her back, as he forced his heart to slow.

When I’m on vacation, how do I pull out this “potato” from the house so it can go for a walk?

Mun Mark: 🏮
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