ManoJob
Manojob Pic(s)
The golden afternoon light spilled through the dusty barn windows, catching the motes of hay dancing in the warm, still air. His calloused hand, surprisingly gentle, brushed a stray lock of hair from her damp forehead, his touch sending a shiver of pure awareness down her spine. She could feel the steady, solid warmth of his body standing so close, a silent promise in the quiet space between them. Her own breath hitched as his thumb traced the line of her jaw, a slow, deliberate caress that made her heart flutter wildly against her ribs. The scent of sun-warmed leather and clean sweat mingled, creating an intoxicating perfume that was uniquely his. She leaned into his palm, her eyes closing as a profound sense of belonging washed over her, quieting the world outside. Every nerve ending seemed to awaken, hyper-aware of the mere inches separating their bodies. A soft, yearning sigh escaped her lips, a sound that seemed to hang in the air between them. In that suspended moment, the simple chore was forgotten, replaced by a trembling, unspoken anticipation. This was no longer a duty, but a silent conversation of longing and tender discovery.
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