Her laugh came lightly, a gentle ripple that might have passed as innocent. But paired with the tilt of her body, the subtle lean that brought her closer, it became something else entirely. The sound was velvet, brushing against his nerves, warming the air between them. He heard it not just in his ears, but in his chest, in the tightening pull of desire it left behind. It was the kind of laugh that didn’t belong in polite company—it belonged in secret places, whispered into the dark.
She leaned closer as the sound faded, her shoulder almost brushing his, her hair spilling forward in a way that made the moment feel private, hidden from the rest of the world. Her eyes shone with mischief, though her words remained casual, light, almost meaningless. The contrast was intoxicating: her voice saying nothing of importance, her body saying everything he wasn’t supposed to hear. Each inch she closed between them sharpened the intimacy, each flicker of her laughter pulling him deeper into a current he had no hope of resisting.
When she laughed again, softer this time, her lips were so close he could feel the warmth of her breath against his skin. It wasn’t just amusement—it was an invitation, disguised as play. The sound lingered, wrapping around him, making him forget the boundaries he had promised himself to keep. She didn’t touch him, didn’t confess a word, yet her nearness, her laughter, her body leaning into his, all said the same thing: come closer, and you’ll see this is not just a joke. And he knew, with every ache of restraint, that her laughter had undone him more than any touch could have.