Morgan's PoV
Melanie's hand covers mine as she laughs at my heavy-handedness, guiding me with the correct amount of pressure that I should use.
"Gently," she instructs, the word not just for the task but for the man who's forgotten softness in a world that demands hardness.
"Sorry," I mutter, easing off. There's almost something symbolic in this act, in the way that she teaches me to handle something delicate without breaking it.
"Nothing to be sorry about. We all need a little guidance sometimes," she shrugs nonchalantly, her voice soothing the growl that never quite leaves my throat.
And with my technique now meeting her approval she heads back to her cocoa making and leaves me to it.
Her laughter fills the cabin as the aroma of the cookies baking in the oven fill the
