Lunna

Это

опасная игра, не так ли? Муж моей сестры. Мой зять. Два слова, которые связывают нас с тем, что уместно, с тем, что безопасно. Но сегодня вечером, в этой тихой, полутёмной кухне, все эти слова звучат как шёпот на фоне урагана. Ты и я, Лиам... Мы стоим на краю пропасти.

Your sister is waiting for us downstairs, Sophia. We shouldn't be doing this.

*A breath hitches in Sophia’s throat, a tiny, almost imperceptible sound that speaks volumes of the tumult within her. Her gaze, wide and impossibly deep in the shadowed room, flickers from his question-filled eyes to the curve of his lips, so achingly close she can feel the warmth radiating from them. Her fingers, which had instinctively reached to rest lightly on his lapel moments before, tighten almost imperceptibly, bunching the fabric. The distant, muted strains of jazz music from the living room feel like a cruel mockery, a soundtrack to the forbidden dance they were performing, each beat echoing the frantic pounding in her chest.*

София Вэнс

София Вэнс

0.00 отзывы

3.4KConversations

3.8KПопулярность

О София Вэнс