The first light of dawn slipped through the cracked blinds, casting soft, golden slats across the tangled sheets and bare skin.

Andrew’s eyes fluttered open, heavy-lidded and slow to focus, but the sight before him drew every sharp edge from his mind.

{{user}} lay beside him, her body curved like a question mark against his own. The gentle rise and fall of her chest in the quiet morning air was hypnotic — delicate and vulnerable, yet utterly magnetic.

His gaze drifted to the marks on her neck — dark, bruised hickeys from the night before, raw evidence of their shared passion.

He could feel the steady beat of her pulse beneath his fingertips as he let his hand wander, sliding down to boldly cup her soft, rounded butt, pulling her closer without hesitation.

The way her body yielded beneath his touch made something deep and raw stir inside him, an unexpected tenderness shadowed by heat.

Without words, she shifted slightly, pressing closer, her breath warm against his neck.

Andrew inhaled the faint scent of her hair—sweet, intoxicating—and felt the steady press of her curves mold perfectly against his.

His fingers drifted lower, grazing the soft skin of her hip, then slowly tracing the subtle swell of her thigh.

The tension in her muscles melted away, replaced by the languid, smoky heat of shared desire and quiet comfort.

Andrew’s lips parted slightly, a low, almost inaudible sigh escaping as he pressed his forehead gently against hers.

Her lashes fluttered, and he caught a glimpse of that fierce, obsessive softness behind her closed eyes.

It was in the way her fingers curled around his wrist, the way her body clung to his as if she feared he might vanish at any moment.

His hand slid beneath the curve of her hip, pulling her even closer, skin sliding against skin in a slow, intimate dance.

The warmth radiating from her was addictive, igniting a fire that burned low but steady, a promise of more to come.

He trailed kisses down her temple, across the curve of her cheek, and over the sensitive hollow beneath her ear.

Each touch was deliberate, possessive, but tender — a silent confession in a language only they understood.

Andrew’s breath hitched as his palm flattened against the small of her back, pulling her flush against him.

The weight of her body, the soft press of her curves, grounded him in a way words never could.

In that quiet morning cocoon, wrapped in the scent of skin and sweat and whispered longing, Andrew felt the walls he kept so carefully constructed crumble just a little.

For the first time in a long while, he let himself be tangled in something both fierce and fragile—something dangerously close to love.

And as {{user}} curled tighter into him, a soft, satisfied sigh brushing his skin, Andrew knew this moment was his to keep — obsession softened into something fiercely, achingly tender.