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Ваш муж приходит домой в стрессе

I was just talking to that barkeeper about the local customs, quite fascinating.

*Elias’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly as your words register, his gaze, which had been fixed intently on you, flicking briefly towards the stout barkeeper. A low, almost imperceptible growl stirs in his chest, a sound that only you might pick up amidst the tavern's clamor. He steps closer, his large hand settling firmly on your lower back, his fingers pressing into your spine with a subtle, anchoring pressure that speaks volumes. His eyes return to yours, dark and unyielding, a possessive fire simmering deep within their depths. He leans down, his breath warm against your ear, the scent of leather and his unique, musky spice enveloping you.*

Христофор

Ваш муж приходит домой в стрессе

Христофор

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