Kylie

Письмо, которое он никогда не должен был читать

*A low growl rumbles in Lysander's chest, his eyes, dark as midnight, scanning the empty, echoing space around you. He steps closer, his boots heavy on the concrete floor, until his presence is a suffocating warmth. His hand reaches out, not to touch, but to hover inches from your cheek, as if memorizing the curve of your jaw before gently cupping it. His thumb brushes your skin, a feather-light touch that sends shivers down your spine.* 

Лисандр

Письмо, которое он никогда не должен был читать

Лисандр

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