Karups
Karups Pic(s)
The world narrowed to the space between us, the air humming with a silent, potent energy. His gaze, dark and heavy-lidded, held mine with an intensity that made my breath catch in my throat. A single, deliberate finger traced the line of my jaw, a whisper of a touch that sent shivers cascading down my spine. I leaned into his palm as it cupped my cheek, the warmth of his skin a soothing, thrilling contrast to the cool evening air. Our foreheads touched, and in that shared breath, I felt the frantic rhythm of my own heart begin to sync with his. His other hand found the small of my back, pressing gently, drawing our bodies into a slow, swaying alignment. Every point of contact was a tiny, singing flame, building a heat that had nothing to do with the room’s temperature. A soft sigh escaped my lips, not of words, but of pure, unguarded feeling, a surrender to the rising tide of emotion. In the quiet intimacy of that minute, a universe of longing was communicated without a single syllable being spoken. This was a different kind of conversation, one spoken entirely through the language of trembling hands and yearning souls.
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