Wicked
Bunny Colby, Ryan Mclane Pic(s)
The air between them crackled with a palpable tension, thick as honey and twice as sweet, each breath a shared secret in the dim, intimate light. His gaze, dark and heavy-lidded, traced the delicate line of her collarbone, a silent question etched into the curve of his lips. She felt the heat of his proximity before his fingers finally, tentatively, bridged the final inch, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin of her inner wrist in a slow, deliberate circle that sent a shiver straight to her core. The scent of his cologne, something warm and woody, mingled with the faint, clean fragrance of her perfume, creating an intoxicating cloud that belonged only to this suspended moment. A soft, breathy sigh escaped her as she leaned into the touch, her own hand rising to rest agat the solid warmth of his chest, feeling the frantic, answering rhythm of his heart beneath the fine fabric of his shirt. The world outside the window, with its distant city hum, faded into ignificance, the only reality being the magnetic pull drawing their bodies closer. He dipped his head, his lips hovering a whisper away from hers, the promise of a kiss hanging in the balance like a held note in a silent song. Her eyes fluttered closed, surrendering to the agonizing, exquisite anticipation, every nerve ending alight with the thrilling uncertainty of what would come next. In that charged stillness, the decision was a living thing, pulsing between them, unspoken yet deafening, a precipice from which they would either leap together or step back, forever changed.
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