-puremature- -nicole Aniston- Nighttime Romance... -

He brought his hands up, not with heat, but with reverence. His fingertips traced the line of her jaw, the delicate shell of her ear. She closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. This was the purest form of romance, Nicole thought. It wasn’t about grand gestures or breathless declarations. It was this: the quiet intimacy of being truly seen.

She heard the soft click of the bedroom door behind her. -PureMature- -Nicole Aniston- Nighttime Romance...

“Now,” he said, taking her hand and leading her away from the window, back towards the rumpled sheets of the bed, where the city lights became a distant, forgotten galaxy. “Now, I don’t want to sleep at all.” He brought his hands up, not with heat, but with reverence

A slow smile touched Nicole’s lips, a rare, unguarded thing that softened her entire being. “And now?” This was the purest form of romance, Nicole thought

He stepped into the moonlight, barefoot, wearing only the loose linen pants he’d slept in. Leo. He was older, a photographer whose eyes had seen too much and whose heart had been locked away for years. He’d met Nicole at a gallery opening six months ago, a collision of his weary cynicism and her vibrant, guarded grace. She was an enigma he’d stopped trying to solve, and that, he realized, was why he’d fallen for her.

“Or maybe we’re just listening too closely,” she replied, finally taking a sip of the wine. He watched the bob of her throat.

“Come here,” he said softly, not a command, but an invitation.