ManoJob
Manojob Pic(s)
The fading sun cast long, amber shadows across the room, gilding the dust motes that danced in the silent air. His gaze was a tangible warmth upon her skin, a silent question that made her breath catch. She slowly reached out, her fingers barely grazing the back of his hand, and a shiver traveled up her arm, settling deep within her chest. He turned his palm to meet hers, their fingers intertwining in a perfect, breathless fit. As he leaned closer, the scent of his skin, of clean cotton and warm earth, filled her senses, making her feel dizzy and utterly anchored at once. His lips found the delicate hollow of her throat, and a soft, involuntary sigh escaped her, a sound of pure surrender. Every nerve ending seemed to awaken, humming with a newfound awareness of his proximity, his heat. The world narrowed to this single point of contact, this silent conversation of trembling touches and shared breath. It was a slow, sweet unraveling, a feeling of coming home to a place she never knew existed. In that suspended moment, there was only the profound, aching beauty of two souls meeting, completely and without reservation.
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