In the sunlight, Jasmine Yale resembles a kitten that has retracted its claws, staying still, her skin tinged with rosy hues, snowy and tender.
Her eyelashes are long, the light fragmented by the chaotic shadows of the trees, falling down, resting upon her.
In her serene state, Jasmine Yale's lips curl slightly upwards.
As if she is smiling.
Her lips are untouched by lipstick, displaying a natural peach color, glossy and red.
Sylvan Cheney's gaze drops, his throat moves, and his blood feels somewhat uncontrollable.
Jasmine Yale doesn't open her eyes, she enjoys the late autumn sunlight with closed eyes.
Dreaming peacefully.
Staring at her sleeping face for a while, Sylvan Cheney restrains himself and takes off his coat.
The coat, carrying his body warmth, covers her, and Jasmine Yale moves her arm. She wasn't really asleep, and now she opens her eyes in a daze.
His coat carries his scent, faint and subtle.
Feeling sleepy, she closes her eyes again.
