In longing.He spoke no word.But there was language in the way his gaze roamed—curious, amused, achingly intimate. The water barely shifted around his hips.I felt it, then—heat licking across my skin in places the sun hadn’t touched. Gay sex The water barely shifted around his hips.I felt it, then—heat licking across my skin in places the sun hadn’t touched. As though he already knew what I dreamed about alone. Every nerve alive. The kind of breath taken by gods, or those who’ve never known fear.His hair—long, black, soaked—trailed over his back like liquid ink, the strands moving as if they had minds of their own, drawn by breeze or magic. My past. Not the gentle brown of earth, but the wildfire kind—amber-flecked and impossibly bright, like sun through resin. Not the gentle brown of earth, but the wildfire kind—amber-flecked and impossibly bright, like sun through resin. As if the water had birthed him.He stood half in shadow, half in gold, where the canopy cracked open to let the sun spill directly onto his skin. As though the flicker of my breath, the tremble at the base of my spine, were verses he’d read before.And for a moment, beneath the shadow of towering palms and distant snow-peaked silence, I forgot my name.
