The moonlight illuminated Ava; carving her. Every line etched in silver and shadow – the sharp, desperate cut of her collarbones, the tense coil of her biceps, the devastating dip where her waist flared into hips that promised ruin. Her skin was fever-flushed, slick with a sheen of sweat that caught the pale light like molten metal.
Muscles trembled beneath the surface, not soft curves but living wire, strung tighter than a bowstring. My eyes were consuming, branding the image onto my soul – a goddess forged in moonlight and raw need.
Her breath hitched, a shattered sound in the heavy silence. It wasn't fear twisting her features, but a desperate, aching hunger mirrored back at me. Covetousness surged, dark and possessive.
This was beyond admiration; it was claiming.
My hands moved, not gentle guides, but inexorable chains closing around her wrists. The heat of her pulse thundered against my thumbs, frantic as a caged bird.
