Adventure
Outdoor passion, travel encounters, spontaneous locations
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October 14th, 10:14 PM
I wasn't looking for the safe, not yet; I was looking for the specific way he held his champagne flute, like he was weighing a weapon.
Brittle Steam
The steam was so thick I couldn’t see my own knees, but I could hear her breathing, rhythmic and heavy, just three feet away.
Seriously, Who Does This?
His hand was already moving under the hem of my borrowed robe, finding the wet heat of me with a terrifying, practiced accuracy.
Grip
Liam looked like a mid-century modern chair—expensive, structurally sound, and entirely uncomfortable for anything but a short, high-impact stay.
A Magnesium Block, Shaved Thin
The wind is screaming off the ridgeline like a jet engine, but all I can hear is her breath hitching against my neck.
Plastic Marble
The humidity in the ballroom was a physical weight, pressing the scent of expensive gin and industrial floor wax into the back of his throat.
Can You Honestly Say You Expected the Fire Alarm?
You looked like a man who had just lost a multi-million dollar account, or perhaps found something much more interesting in the stairwell.
We Never Even Swapped Last Names
He had a smudge of lithium grease behind his ear that I wanted to lick off more than I wanted the champagne.
Wait For The Burn
I watched the sweat track a slow, glistening line down the canyon of your chest, and I hated you for breathing so easily.
There’s No Graceful Way to Sit on a Rolling Ladder
I’m fifty-one, and I’ve written enough sex scenes to populate a small town, but doing it on a mahogany floor is a different plot twist.
Ballast
She had a way of looking at her phone that suggested she was waiting for a ransom demand or a very specific apology.
Fast Slow
He tracked the line of her throat like a melody he’d been humming for a decade but finally found the words for.