“Harder?” he asked, shifting my leg slightly.“Yes,” I said, my voice low, letting the closeness between us speak for itself.He adjusted me, his touch careful yet insistent. The heat between us was undeniable, every movement sending little shocks through me. I kept a hand on his shoulder, letting the other run through his damp hair, brushing it back from his forehead. As I did, I noticed a streak of green paint on his cheek from earlier. I gently wiped it away, and it brought back a memory of that strange, chaotic afternoon when we had laughed over similar messes.“Were you painting on Wednesday when you were… distracted?” I asked, keeping my tone light, though there was curiosity in my voice.He froze for a second, then tightened his hold on me, guiding me closer—but he didn’t answer. My chest pressed against him, and I could feel the sudden shift in his energy. My heart skipped a beat.“I want to see your paintings, Felix,” I said softly, leaning into him. “You don’t have to be emb
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