Jack Wright stands shirtless against rough-hewn wood, his arms flexed as he bends forward, one hand gripping the panel while his tattoos ripple across his shoulders. The grain of the backdrop cuts into his skin as he shifts his weight, hips thrusting just enough to make the muscles in his thighs tighten. His dark hair falls forward, framing the sharp angles of his jaw as he poses, arms raised, crossed, hands on hips, each stance locking him in place like a man who knows exactly how his body moves.
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