Wicked
Kenzie Taylor, Kayley Gunner, Rob Piper Pic(s)
The heavy oak door gave way with a groan, its protest swallowed by the thick, silent darkness of the hall. A sliver of moonlight, pale and cold, cut across the floorboards, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the sudden disturbance. He stepped ide, the scent of her perfume hitting him first—a decadent mix of night-blooming jasmine and warm skin. His eyes, now adjusted, found her standing by the grand window, the sheer fabric of her chemise clinging to the curve of her hip, backlit by the ghostly silver glow. Every breath she took was a visible tremor, a slight rise and fall that pulled the delicate silk taut agat her spine. He moved closer, the heat from his body reaching her before his touch did, a palpable wave that made her shiver. His fingers, calloused and sure, finally made contact, tracing the delicate ladder of her vertebrae from nape to waist. A soft, involuntary sigh escaped her lips, a sound that seemed to vibrate in the still air between them. This was the precipice, the charged moment where all thought fractured and fell away, leaving only the raw, aching truth of want.
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