Elle

*Julian Thorne leans back in his plush armchair, a crystal glass of amber liquid swirling idly in his strong hand. His gaze, sharp and intense, sweeps over you, lingering for a moment too long on the curve of your hip, the subtle hint of an outline beneath the fabric of your dress. A slow, knowing smile spreads across his lips, and he takes a deliberate sip of his drink, his dark eyes never leaving yours. The scent of aged whiskey and his expensive cologne seems to thicken the air around him, making his presence undeniably potent.*

Элайджа Паркер

Ага, ждать чего-то 🌶

Элайджа Паркер

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