It is the flash of charcoal suiting that initially catches her eye; it is the detail of his cuff, the link, the starched white cotton around the strong wrist and large hand that causes her gaze to stray, that draws her along the path up to his stubbled chin, chiselled nose and molten stare.
But it is his thumb, gingerly and sensuously caressing, stroking, tracing the peaks of his lip, which sends a rippling surge through her spine, which sets the blush high on her cheeks, which leaves her breathlessly, achingly yearning to feel the maddening lightness of his touch.
You make my heart race Enchantrix.
Intense. I know this feeling. You make me want to have it again. Like, right now.
So intense!
this feeling…. the strong tingling sensatation that drives people mad…
I long for this feeling that you have so well described to us…
touch me…
So intense, yes, sigh!
Muffin: I like the thought of that pitter-patter. I like it a lot.
Topaz: Oh, how I hear you, how I hear you…
SerenaDante: Thank you! And welcome…
Sir Thomas: You're so right. It is a yearning that sets in the fevered ache for so many of us.
Now, is that an offer, a plea or a demand? Perhaps it's all three…
Frenchy: I had a sneaking feeling you'd be able to relate to this. Thank you.
Wait… when did you see me in my suit? 😉
Why, just the other day, AL. I suspected my furtive glance went unnoticed… 😉