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Bullshit

Am I still dreaming?

I stay still. Maybe if I don’t move, he won’t go away.

His intense gaze lingers on my skin.

His disheveled appearance against the moonlight reflecting from the large windows gives him an ethereal look, I can’t keep my eyes away from him.

He flicks his gaze toward my face, not stopping his ministrations.

He dips his finger under.

I let him.

The intensity of this moment leaves me breathless.

All of a sudden, he snaps out of it. Like slowly waking up from a dream, he blinks his eyes.

Next, he removes his hands from me.

It would have been better if it was abrupt, not this slow and gentle detachment.

As if he doesn’t want to, but rather has to. He grips my waist, one last time before standing and quickly turning away.

“You shouldn’t sleep here, it’s cold,” his grave voice makes me feel like I’m prey. That I’m in danger and he will pounce anytime.

One part of me is curious, and the other part is anxious.

Studying him as he strode to his room, his unkempt ap
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