Synopsis

Here she is. I can see the slope of her spine through that thin shirt. She's made of angles I ache to smooth with a hand, but I'd use my lips if she asked. I brush her knuckles with mine. Her skin is cold, but she flips her palm for more contact. I lace our fingers. It's enough to make her look at me. As those kaleidoscopic eyes meet mine, I hold my breath. Then she sets her lips just under my jaw. It rips the air from my lungs. It's the softest thing I've ever felt. "What was that for," I...

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