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Emily Willis, Stirling Cooper Pic(s)
The fourth veil fell away, a whisper of silk surrendering to the heated air, revealing the landscape of her lower back, a delicate hollow where shadows pooled like spilled ink. His calloused thumb traced the elegant curve of her spine, a slow, deliberate pilgrimage from the nape of her neck down to the precipice of her waist, feeling the fine tremor that rippled beneath her skin in response. The scent of her, jasmine and warm woman, filled his senses, a heady perfume that promised mysteries yet to be discovered. He leaned in, his lips brushing the sensitive space between her shoulder blades, a touch so light it was almost a thought, yet it drew a soft, shuddering sigh from her parted lips. Her body arched tinctively, pressing back agat the solid warmth of his chest, a silent plea for more substantial contact. In the dim light, the smooth expanse of her skin glowed like polished marble, a canvas awaiting the artist’s touch. His hands slid around her waist, palms flat agat the gentle swell of her abdomen, feeling the rapid, frantic beat of her heart echoing through his own. She turned her head, her dark eyes meeting his over her shoulder, a look of raw, unguarded longing that spoke volumes more than any whispered confession. This was the moment of true discovery, where every breath was a shared secret and every touch a revelation of a deeper, more primal truth.
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