Karups
Karups Pic(s)
The fading sun cast long, trembling shadows across the room, gilding the curve of Polly’s shoulder as she turned her head. His breath hitched, a soft, broken sound lost in the quiet space between them, and his gaze traced the delicate line of her jaw. She leaned into his touch, a silent surrender that sent a tremor through his entire being, his thumb stroking the impossibly soft skin of her wrist. A slow, languid heat began to uncoil deep within her, a quiet fire answering the unspoken plea in his eyes. The air grew thick with the scent of rain-soaked earth and the faint, floral whisper of her perfume, a fragrance that would forever be tied to this moment. He watched the flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat, a frantic, beautiful rhythm that mirrored the wild drumming in his own chest. Her fingers, trembling slightly, came up to cradle his cheek, her touch a brand of pure, searing tenderness. In that suspended silence, every whispered promise and every shared dream seemed to coalesce into this single, breathless point of contact. The world outside the window blurred into insignificance, leaving only the profound truth of their intertwined hands. This was not a beginning or an end, but a profound, soul-deep recognition that left them both utterly exposed and completely whole.
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