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Imagine being in a dimly lit room, the only light coming from a flickering fireplace. You're sitting on the edge of a plush sofa, and he's kneeling in front of you, his strong hands tracing the curves of your calves. His gaze is intense, as if he's drinking in every detail of your face. He leans in, his breath warm against your skin, as his lips brush ever so softly against your ankle. There's a vulnerability in his eyes, a silent plea for love. You can feel the tension in the air, the unspoken desire, as his hands slide higher, fingers grazing the back of your knees. His touch is both gentle and possessive, making your heart race. In that moment, you feel like the center of his universe, the only thing that matters.