Riley Ransom
The city slept below, a tapestry of silent, glittering lights beyond our window, but the only world that existed was the one contained within this room, charged with a silent, aching anticipation. Riley’s gaze met mine from the doorway, a question held in the slight, vulnerable part of her lips, while Andi watched from the bed, her eyes a soft, approving ember in the dimness. I extended a hand, not a demand, but a quiet plea, and she crossed the space, her fingers finally weaving with mine in a touch that sent a tremor through my entire being. The air itself felt heavy with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and the faint, familiar perfume that always clung to her skin. As she drew closer, I could feel the delicate rhythm of her pulse where my thumb rested against her wrist, a frantic, captive bird. Andi shifted on the sheets, creating a space that felt less like an empty spot and more like a destined sanctuary for her to join us. Riley’s free hand came up to cradle my cheek, her thumb stroking my cheekbone with a tenderness that made my breath catch in my throat. In that single, suspended moment, every whispered promise and shared glance throughout the evening culminated in this profound, unspoken understanding. A soft sigh escaped her, not of surrender, but of arrival, as she let her forehead rest gently against mine. We were no longer three separate souls, but a single constellation of shared warmth and breath, finding our new gravity in the quiet heart of the night.
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