Ever been struck by lightning in a room full of artful pretense?
No. Never. Until Jasmine.
Her gaze, a discerning brushstroke cutting through my veneer of suit and status, finds the artist yearning beneath.
In this world where every brushstroke guards a secret, her gaze is an incision through my crafted façade. Reading unspoken truths in my art, truths even I dare not voice.
I’m comfortable with art as my silent confidante, and my hidden voice when she steps into the frame.
She talks art, but her every word sketches a challenge I can't resist.
Her depth, an irresistible magnet. Her beauty, not just seen but felt.
Jasmine’s not just in the room—she's the air itself.
Suddenly my inspiration now craves a muse. My heart, no longer my own, craves her.
Peeling away my layers is a plot twist even I didn't see coming.
Because revealing my truth could be the stroke that breaks everything.
But what if it's the only way to complete our masterpiece?
No. Never. Until Jasmine.
Her gaze, a discerning brushstroke cutting through my veneer of suit and status, finds the artist yearning beneath.
In this world where every brushstroke guards a secret, her gaze is an incision through my crafted façade. Reading unspoken truths in my art, truths even I dare not voice.
I’m comfortable with art as my silent confidante, and my hidden voice when she steps into the frame.
She talks art, but her every word sketches a challenge I can't resist.
Her depth, an irresistible magnet. Her beauty, not just seen but felt.
Jasmine’s not just in the room—she's the air itself.
Suddenly my inspiration now craves a muse. My heart, no longer my own, craves her.
Peeling away my layers is a plot twist even I didn't see coming.
Because revealing my truth could be the stroke that breaks everything.
But what if it's the only way to complete our masterpiece?
Used availability for Blaire Wilde's Stolen Night