Wicked
Agatha Vega, Josh Pic(s)
The air itself seemed to thicken, charged with the unspoken promise that had been hanging between them for what felt like an eternity. His gaze, dark and intent, traced a slow, deliberate path from the curve of her shoulder down to the faint pulse beating at the base of her throat. A single finger followed, its touch so light it was almost a phantom sensation, yet it sent a visible shiver cascading over her skin. She arched into the contact, a soft sigh escaping her lips as her own hands found the warm, solid plane of his back, pulling him closer. The scent of him, clean sweat and something uniquely masculine, filled her senses, drowning out all other thought. The world narrowed to the space where their bodies met, the rough texture of his trousers a stark contrast to the silken slide of her dress as he pressed agat her. He lowered his head, his breath a warm caress agat her ear before his mouth found the sensitive skin just below her jawline, a kiss that was more possession than request. Every nerve ending awoke, singing with an electric current that promised a culmination just beyond the next trembling breath. In that suspended moment, the only certainty was the accelerating rhythm of two hearts syncing into a single, primal drumbeat.
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