Chapter 97

“What thoughts are in that beautiful head of yours?” I asked as I reached for Aia’s hand. We had not touched other than the common contact of nursemaid and wounded soldier since she had taken me in her mouth. Over the past few days, Aia told me more of her life, cleaned and dressed my wound, and slept on the bench beside me at night, but we had shared nothing more intimate. I had provided her with constant innuendo because the look on her lovely face at such words often made me smile.