As we moved to the bed, the sheets beneath us felt impossibly soft, like silk against my skin. But the sensation was nothing compared to the heat of Rafael’s touch—urgent yet tender.
The yacht, the ocean, the moon—they all faded, leaving only the two of us, suspended in a space where time seemed to slow. We were in another world, one where nothing could touch us, where the only thing that mattered was the overwhelming connection pulsing between us.
Lying there beneath him, the yacht’s soft rocking barely registering against the storm of emotions inside me, I couldn’t help but feel a deep, almost frantic pulse of connection to Rafael. Every inch of my body was attuned to him, responding to his touch, the heat of his presence. The way he kissed me, the reverence in his hands—nothing about
