“Don’t move.” Leonard’s voice was low, sharp with restraint. Aruna froze in the doorway, rainwater dripping from the hem of her coat onto the marble floor. The storm outside raged like an echo of something unsettled inside the room. “I wasn’t planning to,” she replied softly, though her pulse betrayed her calm. Leonard stepped closer, his footsteps measured. He reached out, fingers brushing her wrist. “You’re soaked,” he said. “So are you,” Aruna answered, her gaze lifting to meet his. His hair was damp, a few strands falling out of place—careless, human, unlike the composed man she knew. The silence between them stretched. Leonard took her coat, slowly, deliberately. His knuckles grazed her shoulder as he slid the fabric free. Aruna inhaled sharply. “Leonard…” she murmured. He paused. “Say it if you want me to stop.” She didn’t answer. Instead, she lifted her hand, almost unconsciously, and smoothed the crease in his shirt. Her fingers lingered too long. Leonard’s breath
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