They’re always pretty in pink

You notice how pale skin takes on a rosy flush that pulls your attention straight to the curve of a bare shoulder, soft and luminous against the light.

You feel your breath slow as your eyes trace downward, taking in every subtle contour, every place where warmth gathers beneath translucent skin.

You want to press your mouth exactly there, where the blush deepens and the body gives way to something warmer, more urgent — a heat that answers yours before a single word passes between you.