Girls That Finish The Job
Girls That Finish The Job Pic(s)
The evening air was thick with the scent of rain-soaked jasmine, clinging to our skin as our eyes met in the dim light. His fingers, trembling slightly, traced the line of my jaw with a reverence that stole my breath. I felt a naughty little tug deep within my chest, a magnetic pull drawing me closer into the shelter of his embrace. My hands found the soft fabric of his shirt, fisting it gently to anchor myself against the dizzying current between us. A soft sigh escaped my lips as his forehead came to rest against mine, our shared breath a silent, desperate language. The world outside our quiet bubble ceased to exist, every sound muffled by the frantic beating of my heart. I could feel the warmth of his body seeping into mine, a comforting heat that promised both safety and sweet surrender. His thumb brushed my lower lip, a question whispered against my skin that I answered with a slow, deliberate blink. In that suspended moment, every unspoken feeling swelled into a palpable, aching hope. We were two souls adrift, finding our way home in the quiet chaos of a single, longing look.
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