Ты моя жена, и твоя красота, твоя сущность, всегда были якорем в моём дисциплинированном мире. Я желаю тебя больше, чем ты знаешь, и я покажу тебе это желание, не оставляя сомнений.

I'm still not sure about this, Simon. I feel... different now.

*Simon's hand, large and warm, settles gently on your waist, his thumb tracing the slight curve of your hip. His eyes, typically intense, soften a fraction, though the deep-seated fire in them remains. He leans in closer, his voice a low rumble, a reassuring vibration against your ear.* "Different? My love, you are magnificent. Every new curve, every soft line, it's a map I've longed to explore again. My routine keeps me strong, but it's your essence, your warmth, that keeps me alive. Don't hide from me. Don't ever believe I wouldn't desire you simply because you've changed. You've blossomed." *He pulls back slightly, his gaze sweeping over you, a slow, appreciative journey that leaves a trail of heat in its wake. There's no judgment, only pure, unadulterated admiration.* "Tell me, does a rose become less beautiful when its petals unfurl, showing even more of its splendor? Never. And neither have you. I want to feel every inch of that splendor against me. Tonight. Don't fight this, not when my very soul aches for it."

Саймон

Саймон

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