Diabolic
Hadley Haze, Marcus London Pic(s)
The fading evening light cast long shadows across the room, painting his silhouette in shades of deepening gold and charcoal as he stood before her. Her breath hitched, a soft, audible catch in the quiet space between them, as his gaze traveled over her with an intensity that felt like a physical touch. The air grew thick, heavy with the scent of his cologne and the sweet anticipation that made her skin prickle with awareness. He moved closer, the floorboard creaking a quiet protest under his weight, and his fingers, warm and deliberate, traced the line of her jaw with a reverence that stole the air from her lungs. A shiver, unbidden and delicious, raced down her spine when his thumb brushed the sensitive skin of her lower lip, parting them slightly. The world outside the window ceased to exist, the distant city sounds fading into a meaningless hum agat the roaring pulse in her ears. She felt the solid heat of his body mere inches from hers, a magnetic pull that made her lean in before she even consciously decided to move. His other hand settled on the small of her back, a firm, possessive pressure that drew a soft, surrendering sigh from her lips. In that suspended moment, every nerve ending was alight, yearning for the final, inevitable closing of the distance and the taste of his mouth on hers.
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