He stood at the bar, his back turned to her as he leaned in to speak with the barkeep. She watched him a moment, appreciating the strong breadth of his shoulders, and the tantalizing way the material of his bespoke jacket sculpted his back, from the subtle flex of his toned muscles to the shallow, perfect dip between his shoulder blades. The sight of him—and the knowledge that he was unaware she stood admiring him—filled her with a longing that ached to her core…and an astonished gratitude, that his heart was pledged to hers. Never had the urge to touch, to kiss, to explore, the details of a man’s physique, possessed her so. She could only stand silently and tell herself to breathe, breathe, breathe, gradually overcoming the heavenly weakness he stirred within her.
my writing, in worship of the Cumberback
@thelostsmiles @ben-locked @thehiddenlawyer
