You’re so close you can taste his breath, and every drop of water sliding down his chest feels like it’s landing on your own skin.
His mouth is right there, slightly open, and the way he’s looking at you says he already knows exactly how he’s going to take it.
Slow enough to make you ache, deep enough that you forget your own name.
One more inch and he’ll own the kiss, own the moment, own the way your body is already leaning into his like it was waiting for him to claim it.

















