Karups
Karups Pic(s)
The first warm breeze of spring carried the intoxicating perfume of jasmine, a scent that seemed to wrap around us like a silken promise. His fingers, tentative as a butterfly's landing, traced the line of my jaw, sending a cascade of shivers down my spine. I leaned into his touch, my eyes closing as I breathed in the moment, feeling the solid, steady beat of his heart against my palm. The world narrowed to this sun-dappled corner of the garden, where cherry blossoms drifted around us in a slow, pink rain. A soft sigh escaped my lips as his forehead gently met mine, our shared breath a warm, intimate cloud in the cool air. Every nerve ending felt alive, humming with a sweet, aching anticipation that was both thrilling and serene. I could feel the faint tremor in his hand as it slid to the small of my back, a silent question that my own body answered with a yielding press. The golden light of the late afternoon gilded his features, and in his eyes, I saw a reflection of my own blossoming wonder. This was a language spoken not with words, but with lingering glances and the electric space between our almost-touching lips. In that suspended, perfect silence, I felt an entire universe of emotion bloom, fragile and beautiful, within the sanctuary of his embrace.
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