DON’T STOP
Lila
His sharp jaw shadowed with stubble, dark hair messy like he’d been running his hands through it, eyes a piercing storm-gray even in the dim light. Straight nose, full mouth pulled tight in pleasure, brows drawn together in concentration. He was built like the cowboys in old movies—wide shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, abs cut deep, every line of him hard-earned muscle from years of real work. A faint scar ran across one pec. His chest rose and fell fast, skin gleaming faintly with sweat.