ACCIDENTAL INTIMACY 4

“It’s just a back massage,” he says.

His hands are warm. Gentle. Skilled.

But when his thumbs press into that spot—right above your hips—you moan.

Not loud. Not dirty. Just enough to make his hands pause.

He leans in close, lips by your ear now.

“...Unless you make that noise again.”

And now his hands are going lower.

And his smile is getting darker.