The moment you stepped closer, I felt it again—that pull I could never fully resist.
The room was quiet, but the air between us was heavy, charged, like something was waiting to break free. I told myself to stay calm, to keep control. But you always made that impossible.
“You’re staring again,” you said softly, a faint smile on your lips.
I looked away instantly, but it was too late. You already knew.
Then your hand moved.
Just a simple touch—your fingers brushing against mine.
And everything changed.
Heat rushed through me so fast it stole my breath. My body reacted before my mind could even process what was happening. A slow tremble spread through me, impossible to hide, impossible to deny.
“One touch…” I whispered, barely finding my voice.
You didn’t pull away.
Instead, you stayed close—too close—like you wanted me to feel every second of it. My thoughts started slipping, melting into something I couldn’t control anymore.
I should’ve stepped back.
But I didn’t.
Because your presence wasn’t just warmth—it was addictive. Every second near you felt like falling deeper into something dangerous, something I didn’t want to escape.
“You feel it too,” you murmured.
I nodded slightly.
Because I did.
The pull, the heat, the way my heartbeat refused to slow down when you were near—it was all you.
And standing there, caught in your touch, I realized something I didn’t want to admit out loud:
I wasn’t just drawn to you anymore…
I was already drowning in you.
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