he passes over your neck with single look like angel of light, so that no one could feel it (except hyper-sensitive eye of beholder), gently warming up the skin that glances below clothes.. oh, you fragileness of a guy.. She could disarm you with a noughty kiss in room.. or with a touch preceding your asexual thoughts while you are reading newspapers in a hallway..But her absence of attention is poetry.. you could be drowned in her look, and still feel safe.. there somewhere in her thoughts, between pale skin and smells of apple pie and cinnamon, you could still feel the cashmere touch of her breath and apricotly touch of her lashes..
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