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Her skin held the memory of sun and salt, a warmth that beckoned his hands like a shore drawn to the tide. The low, honeyed light of the afternoon caught the curve of her spine, turning each movement into a slow, deliberate invitation. He traced the line of her shoulder with his fingertips, and she shivered—a quiet surrender that spoke louder than any word. The air between them grew thick with a shared, unspoken longing, each breath a thread pulling them closer to the edge of abandon. When she turned to him, her eyes held a dark, liquid heat, and the smile that played on her lips was a promise he ached to keep. She knelt with a grace that felt like ritual, her hands finding the fasten of his jeans with a reverence that made his pulse thunder. The silk of her hair brushed his thighs as she leaned in, and the first, warm touch of her mouth sent a current of pure pleasure through his core. He tangled his fingers in those waves, guiding her rhythm with a gentle, possessive pressure, losing himself in the wet, velvet dance of her tongue. A low, guttural groan escaped him as she looked up, her lashes wet and her lips swollen, and the connection between them flared into something fierce and raw. He pulled her up, her body pressed flush against his, and the shared heat of their mingled breath promised a hunger that would not be denied.
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