Georgia

You can't look away from the redhead stretched across the sheets, her copper waves spilling like something caught fire and didn't stop burning.

You feel the pull of her gaze before anything else — direct, unhurried, daring you to hold it. You notice the pale skin, the way light traces every curve with almost cruel precision, leaving nothing to imagination and everything to want.

You understand immediately what this image is doing to you. You lean closer without meaning to. You want your hands where the shadows are, your mouth where the light ends.