Thinking
Damon let himself into the boarding house and headed straight for the scotch. He poured himself a generous measure and carried the glass and bottle to the wing chair in front of the fire place.
"Well, since I'm setting the mood, I might as well make it good," he thought to himself as he lit the fire. He sat in front of the roaring flames and stared deeply at the crackling wood. Of their own accord, his thoughts turned to Bonnie as they had been doing for the last few weeks.
To the smooth expanse of chocolate brown skin that made a man wonder if she tasted as good as she looked.
To the luscious fall of soft brown tendrils that looked as if they would unwittingly wrap themselves around a man's fingers.
To the hazel eyes that made a man hope that they changed colour just for him.
To the petit frame that made a man long to tuck her under his protective embrace.
To that cute, spell-casting mouth that made a man dream about hearing sweet nothings whispered in Latin for his ears only.
Oh he was thinking all right. And he thought it was about time he turned his thoughts into action.