Julian's eyes darkened with intent as he held Emma's gaze, his hands already moving to the hem of her shirt. The abandoned building around them felt even more isolated now, the faint creaks of settling debris the only sound besides their ragged breaths. With deliberate slowness, he tugged the fabric upward, exposing her skin inch by inch.
Emma's hands fluttered to his wrists, not to stop him, but to guide. "Slowly, Julian," she whispered, her voice a mix of breathlessness and caution, her body still thrumming from the kiss. "We're not in a rush... right?"
He didn't reply verbally, but his movements gentled just enough as he peeled the shirt over her head, tossing it aside onto the dusty floor. His gaze dropped immediately to her chest, taking in the sight of her bra—a cute, lacy thing adorned with delicate floral patterns, the kind that screamed innocence amid their gritty world.
