21Naturals
Lana Bunny, Kristof Cale Pic(s)
The air itself seemed to hum with a long-forgotten resonance as their eyes met across the room, a silent current pulling them together through the murmuring crowd. His hand, when it found the small of her back, was not a question but a statement, its warmth seeping through the silk of her dress like a remembered promise. She tilted her head, and the first brush of his lips was not a collision but a homecoming, a slow, deliberate exploration of a landscape once known by heart. The taste of him was a flood of memory—whiskey and mint and the unique, musky scent of his skin that had haunted her dreams. Her fingers traced the familiar line of his jaw, then slid into the thick hair at his nape, anchoring herself as a deep, shuddering sigh escaped her. His arms encircled her, drawing her flush agat the hard planes of his body, erasing the years of distance in the press of his hips. A low moan vibrated in his chest, a sound she felt more than heard, and her own body answered with a liquid heat that pooled low in her belly. Every nerve ending awoke, singing a chorus of recognition as his mouth traveled to the sensitive hollow of her throat, his breath a hot brand on her skin. In that moment, the world narrowed to the frantic beat of their hearts, a syncopated rhythm celebrating this long-awaited return to a place of absolute, consuming belonging.
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