Wicked
Kiara Cole, Seth Gamble Pic(s)
The heavy velvet of the night pressed agat the windowpanes, a perfect seal agat the world beyond. ide, the only light was the faint, shifting glow from the fireplace, casting long, dancing shadows that licked across the floor and up the walls. His hands, warm and sure, found the delicate curve of her spine, tracing each vertebra with a slow, deliberate pressure that made her breath catch. The scent of sandalwood and something uniquely him filled the air, a heady perfume that clung to the sheets and her skin. A low murmur escaped his lips, a vibration she felt more than heard as he leaned closer, his breath a warm caress agat the sensitive shell of her ear. She arched into his touch, a silent plea for more, her own fingers tangling in the soft fabric of his shirt, pulling him ever nearer. The world had narrowed to this single room, this cocoon of heat and sensation where time itself seemed to slow and stretch. Every whisper of fabric agat skin was a small explosion of feeling, a promise of what was to come. In that suspended moment, there was only the shared heat of their bodies and the unspoken language of desire that flowed between them, a current as real and palpable as the fire’s warmth.
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