Natasha didn’t really like the sound of the story Clint was describing. She had faced enough real life horrors that reading about them or watching them were never her idea of a good time. A zombie or slasher film here and there she could handle, but any of these creepy psychological ones weren’t for her.
Setting the book aside, she slouched down in the seat slightly so she could rest her head on the back of the sofa, her hands idly rubbing Clint’s feet. Maybe she could find a few worn paperbacks at the market tomorrow. They they could lay around on the beach or in bed and wile away the minutes by reading aloud to each other. It was a childish idea, but she liked the simplicity of the image. A fantasy book, a good old-fashioned detective story, or maybe something in the romance genre for some fun.
Glancing over at Clint, his face half covered by his arm, Natasha studied the rise and fall of his chest for a moment before the frown on his lips drew her gaze. Slipping out from under his feet she crawled up beside him, squeezing in between him and the back of the couch, though winding up laying more on him than anything.
no subject
Setting the book aside, she slouched down in the seat slightly so she could rest her head on the back of the sofa, her hands idly rubbing Clint’s feet. Maybe she could find a few worn paperbacks at the market tomorrow. They they could lay around on the beach or in bed and wile away the minutes by reading aloud to each other. It was a childish idea, but she liked the simplicity of the image. A fantasy book, a good old-fashioned detective story, or maybe something in the romance genre for some fun.
Glancing over at Clint, his face half covered by his arm, Natasha studied the rise and fall of his chest for a moment before the frown on his lips drew her gaze. Slipping out from under his feet she crawled up beside him, squeezing in between him and the back of the couch, though winding up laying more on him than anything.