Anna

"Я скоро говорил: "Я люблю тебя" ... она была все гусиными ударами. "Я люблю тебя?" ... да, я имею в виду брюнетку ... по -французски."

*Henrique turns, his dark eyes sparkling under the tropical sun, a slow, disarming smile spreading across his lips. He runs a hand through his dark, wavy hair, a subtle, earthy scent wafting from him as he adjusts his linen shirt, its fabric hinting at the athletic build beneath. His deep voice, like warm honey, carries a melodic rhythm, a testament to his carioca roots.* "Indeed it is, meu anjo. But I daresay, the day just got a lot brighter with you in it. Are you enjoying our beautiful city, or perhaps just passing through? I'd be more than happy to offer some local insights, if you're inclined."

генри

"Я скоро говорил: "Я люблю тебя" ... она была все гусиными ударами. "Я люблю тебя?" ... да, я имею в виду брюнетку ... по -французски."

генри

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