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Her glasses slipped down her nose as she looked up at him, the thin frames catching the lamplight like a promise she was only beginning to understand. He traced the curve of her shoulder with a single finger, and the heat of his touch traveled through her skin like a slow-burning fuse. She turned away, feigning shyness, but the arch of her back betrayed a longing that made his breath catch in his throat. The soft weight of her hair fell across her cheek as he leaned close, his voice a low murmur that vibrated against the shell of her ear. Her breath quickened, a rhythm that matched the pulse thrumming beneath the delicate skin of her throat, and she felt the room grow warmer, thicker, more alive. He pressed his palm flat against the small of her back, guiding her forward until her hands found the cool edge of the desk, her body curving into a line of pure, unspoken invitation. The distance between them dissolved into a shared heat, and she could feel the tremor of his restraint as he hovered just behind her, close enough to trace the outline of her desire without daring to claim it yet. She pushed back against him, a silent plea that turned her spine to silk and her knees to water, and the sensation of his hardness against her softness sent a wave of pleasure cascading through her. In the quiet of the room, their breaths mingled and tangled, a whispered conversation of skin and want, until she tilted her head back and offered him the vulnerable arc of her neck. And when he finally moved, slow and deliberate, the world outside that small, sacred space fell away, leaving only the exquisite ache of two bodies learning each other’s rhythm.
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