Webyoung
Whitney Wright, Sabina Rouge Pic(s)
The air in the dimly lit storage room was thick with the scent of old paper and chalk dust, a familiar aroma now charged with an unfamiliar, illicit energy. His tall frame seemed to fill the cramped space, the usual swagger in his posture replaced by a predatory stillness that made her heart hammer agat her ribs. A slow, deliberate smile curved his lips as he took a step closer, the faint rustle of his jeans the only sound besides their mingling breaths. Her back pressed agat the cool metal of a filing cabinet, the sensation a sharp contrast to the sudden heat flooding her ve. His gaze, usually so mocking and cold, now held a dark, smoldering intensity that traveled over her, leaving a phantom touch on her skin. He reached out, his calloused fingers not grabbing, but gently tracing the line of her jaw, a shocking tenderness in the gesture that stole the air from her lungs. The world outside, with its ringing bells and shouting students, faded into a distant hum, irrelevant. She could feel the powerful warmth radiating from his body, an unspoken promise of things to come that both terrified and exhilarated her. In that suspended moment, the carefully constructed walls of animosity crumbled, revealing a raw, undeniable hunger that pulsed between them in the silent, shadowed room.
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