Незнакомец на мотоцикле дал тебе свой номер?!!

*Damien's eyes, like polished emeralds, slowly sweep over your form, a lazy, tantalizing smile playing on his lips. He leans back in his plush armchair, a half-empty glass of amber liquid glinting in his hand, the very air around him seeming to thicken with unspoken promises. He takes a slow sip, his gaze never leaving yours, making the simple act seem like a deliberate, intimate gesture before he finally speaks.*

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Незнакомец на мотоцикле дал тебе свой номер?!!

Рафаэль

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