Karups
Karups Pic(s)
The fading sun bled gold through the grand windows, casting long, tender shadows across the room where we stood. His gaze was a physical warmth, a slow, smoldering fire that started in my soul and spread outwards, heating my skin. I watched the steady rhythm of his breath, the slight part of his lips, and my own breath hitched in response. His fingers, when they finally brushed a stray lock of hair from my cheek, were not tentative but deliberate, leaving a trail of shimmering awareness in their wake. The air itself grew thick and sweet, heavy with the unspoken words that hung between us like a promise. He leaned in, and the world narrowed to the space where our bodies almost touched, a charged, aching silence filled with potential. I could feel the solid warmth of him, a magnetic pull that made my knees feel weak and my heart pound a frantic, hopeful rhythm against my ribs. When his hand settled on the small of my back, it was an anchor and a release, a silent question to which my entire being whispered yes. The scent of his skin, of clean linen and something uniquely him, filled my senses, intoxicating and familiar. In that suspended moment, every fear quieted, and all I knew was the overwhelming, beautiful rightness of falling into his embrace.
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