I let out a groan, my hand slamming into the glass door, and when my palm slips, wiping away some of the condensation from the steam, my eyes collide with green ones. I freeze all over, staring at Blaise, my dick pulsing in my palm. From what I can see through the steamed glass, he’s leaning against the sink, his arms folded. He’s wearing a sweater now, probably already packed for our ski trip with our parents and Mia. “Don’t stop,” he says, his voice strained. For a long moment, our eyes stay glued, my heart accelerating to a dangerous pace, feeling like it’s about to bound out of my fucking
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