Karups
Karups Pic(s)
The fading sun cast long, amber shadows across the room, gilding the dust motes that danced in the silent air between us. My breath caught as your gaze found mine, a slow, deliberate look that felt like a physical touch. You reached out, your fingers tracing the line of my jaw with a feather-light reverence that sent a tremor through my entire being. A soft sigh escaped my lips, the only sound in the hushed intimacy of the evening. I leaned into your palm, feeling its warmth seep into my skin, a silent promise of shelter. The scent of your cologne, subtle and familiar, wrapped around me like a safe, warm blanket. Our foreheads gently touched, and I closed my eyes, lost in the sheer proximity of you. In that suspended moment, the entire world narrowed to the space where our breaths mingled. Every nerve ending felt alive, humming with a quiet, aching anticipation. This was a different kind of conversation, spoken not with words, but with the language of our yearning hearts.
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