Prettyin floral

You notice the lingerie before anything else — delicate floral lace sitting against warm skin like something meant to be slowly removed.

You find your eyes tracing every curve it barely covers, the fabric thin enough to hint at everything underneath, designed less to conceal than to make the reveal feel earned.

You feel the pull of wanting to close the distance, to run your fingers along the edges where lace meets skin, where something so pretty exists only to be taken apart by someone paying close enough attention.