Paige Steele
Chandler Steele,Paige Steele
The golden hour light spilled through the grand bay window, casting long, warm shadows across the polished hardwood floor where they stood. Her breath caught as his thumb traced the line of her jaw, a feather-light touch that sent a cascade of shivers down her spine. He leaned in, his forehead gently resting against hers, their shared air becoming a silent, intimate language. The scent of his cologne, warm and woody, mingled with the faint aroma of old books from the built-in shelves, creating an intoxicating atmosphere. She could feel the steady, strong rhythm of his heart against her palm where it rested on his chest, a frantic counterpoint to her own. His eyes, dark and impossibly deep, held hers with an intensity that made the rest of the world simply dissolve into a blur. A soft, surrendering sigh escaped her lips as his hand slid to the small of her back, drawing her infinitesimally closer into the sanctuary of his embrace. In that suspended moment, every whispered promise and lingering glance culminated in a profound, overwhelming connection that left her trembling. It was a silent, perfect culmination of the exquisite tension that had simmered between them for weeks, a sweet and total release. They remained there, entwined and breathless, as the final rays of sun gilded the dust motes dancing around them like forgotten magic.
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