ManoJob
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The late afternoon sun cast long, golden shadows across the quiet hotel suite, glinting off the ice in our forgotten drinks. Jessica stood by the window, a silhouette against the fading light, and when she turned, her gaze was a tangible warmth that pulled me across the room. My fingers found hers, a gentle intertwining that felt like a completed puzzle, and she leaned into my touch, her cheek soft against my palm. I could feel the delicate pulse at her wrist quicken, a silent drumbeat echoing the frantic rhythm within my own chest. Her scent, a mix of vanilla and summer rain, enveloped me as I drew her closer, our bodies aligning with a quiet, certain gravity. A soft sigh escaped her lips, her breath a warm caress against my neck as she buried her face in the space between my shoulder and collar. Every nerve ending sang with the electricity of her proximity, the simple pressure of her hand on my back speaking volumes of unspoken longing. The world outside, with its distant city hum, faded into an indistinct blur, leaving only the universe contained within this single, breathless embrace. In the quiet intimacy of that moment, suspended between the day and the coming night, words were unnecessary, for our bodies were having their own profound conversation. I knew, with a certainty that shook me to my core, that this was merely the beautiful, trembling prelude to everything that was yet to come.
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