ManoJob
Manojob Pic(s)
The midday sun streamed through the window, casting a warm, dappled glow across the flour-dusted countertops. He turned from the sink, his eyes meeting hers with an unspoken question that made her breath catch. Her fingers, still cool from the water, found the warm skin at the nape of his neck, drawing him closer until their foreheads gently touched. The world outside, with its distant traffic hum, faded into a meaningless blur as his hands settled on her waist, a solid, comforting weight. She could feel the steady, strong rhythm of his heart against her own fluttering pulse, a frantic bird trapped in her chest. His lips were soft as they brushed her temple, then her cheek, a trail of tender fire that left her trembling. A soft sigh escaped her, a sound of pure surrender that was swallowed by the gentle, searching pressure of his mouth on hers. In that suspended moment, there was only the taste of shared breath, the scent of his skin mingling with the aroma of fresh coffee, and the dizzying sensation of falling and being caught simultaneously. Their embrace tightened, a silent language of longing spoken through the press of his body and the arch of her back. It was a stolen, perfect secret, sealed with a final, lingering kiss before the real world dared to intrude once more.
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