Puretaboo
Bella Rolland, Jessy Jones Pic(s)
The air itself seemed to thicken, charged with the unspoken words that hung between them like a veil. His gaze was a physical weight, tracing the delicate line of her collarbone before descending lower, a slow, deliberate exploration that made her breath catch. A single finger, calloused and warm, lifted her chin, and in the silence, the question was as palpable as a touch. She felt the fine silk of her dress whisper agat her skin, a maddening contrast to the heat building within. His thumb brushed the corner of her mouth, a feather-light promise that sent a tremor through her entire body. The world narrowed to this single point of contact, to the intoxicating scent of his skin and the dark, wanting look in his eyes. Every second stretched into an eternity, a precipice from which there would be no return. A soft, involuntary sound escaped her lips, a surrender to the inevitable pull. He leaned in, and the final, fragile barrier of space between them dissolved into the warmth of his mouth meeting hers.
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