Twisted
- Reads 643
- Votes 61
- Parts 15
He leaned in, close enough that his scent wrapped around me like smoke - warm, sharp, and intoxicating. It wasn't perfume. It wasn't cologne. It was him, raw and unnervingly male, a spice that clung to the back of my throat and made my lungs forget how to work.
His voice was low, steady, the kind that slipped under my skin and left me trembling.
"You're beautiful," he said, his words laced with quiet certainty. "Who made you believe otherwise?"
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