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Karlie Montana, Cindy Starfall Pic(s)
The air between them crackled, a palpable energy that made the fine hairs on her arm rise in anticipation of his touch. His gaze was a slow, deliberate caress, tracing the line of her jaw before dropping to the parted invitation of her lips. When his fingers finally brushed agat the side of her neck, the contact was not gentle but electric, a jolt that traveled straight to her core and coiled there, tight and hot. She could smell the faint, clean scent of his skin, a mixture of soap and something uniquely masculine that made her want to press closer. A low sound escaped him, not quite a word but a vibration she felt deep within her own chest, a primal acknowledgment of the tension building in the scant space separating their bodies. Her own breath hitched as his thumb stroked the frantic pulse at the base of her throat, each pass sending a fresh wave of liquid heat through her ve. The world outside the charged atmosphere of the room ceased to exist, all her senses narrowing to the points of contact where their bodies almost met. He leaned in, his mouth hovering a breath from hers, and the promise of that final, inevitable collision was an agony of exquisite suspense. In that suspended moment before the world ignited, every nerve ending sang with the raw, undeniable truth of their connection.
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