ManoJob
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The golden afternoon light spilled through the window, catching the faint tremor in Lana’s hand as she reached for his. The air itself seemed to thicken, charged with a silent, aching anticipation that made her breath catch. His gaze, heavy-lidded and intense, held hers, speaking a language of pure, unspoken desire that needed no translation. A soft sigh escaped her lips as his fingers gently traced the line of her jaw, a touch so feather-light it sent shivers cascading down her spine. She leaned into his palm, her eyes fluttering closed, completely surrendering to the wave of tenderness that washed over her. The world narrowed to this single, suspended moment, to the warmth of his skin and the frantic, hopeful rhythm of her own heart. He moved closer, his forehead resting against hers, their shared breaths mingling in the small space between them. Every nerve in her body felt alive, humming with a profound and dizzying connection that was both thrilling and serene. In that quiet intimacy, she felt utterly seen, her soul laid bare and met only with reverence. It was a perfect, breathless convergence of two spirits, a silent promise whispered against skin.
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