Our Twisted Vows
She leaned into Zariah, letting her fingers trace along her arm, brushing along her shoulder, feeling the subtle heat radiating between them.
Zariah pressed lightly against her, playful and daring, letting her fingertips trace teasing paths along Imani’s back. Malik’s hand at her waist was steady, grounding, a firm counterpoint to Zariah’s playful intrusion. Every soft touch, every lingering brush, every subtle glance drove the tension higher, making her pulse skip, her chest tighten.
“You’re enjoying this too much,” Zariah whispered, lips brushing along Imani’s temple, teasing, deliberate, and full of promise.
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