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... en blindfolded—" I started.

"Shut up," she snapped, cold and steady, but there was a tiny waver in it—a tremble I only caught because my sight was gone.

Then—touch.

Flinch.

"Huhm, you work out or what?" she said, her palm pressing flat against my chest. The sudden contact jolted me—I jerked back, but the cuffs held me fast. No dodging her.

"I can shift a little," I noted. Her hands slid over my pecs, firm and warm. I don’t hit the gym in real life, but her ...

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