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She knows it's wrong, his hand skimming her thigh, because he avoids her eyes. Their touches fall into a rhythm that's familiar, yet unpractised – it's been too long for both of them and there's no stopping now. When he moans it makes her shiver but that sound isn't meant for her ears. He doesn't say a word, he doesn't have to – his lips are sealed, they want to say her name. In the morning will he say it was a mistake? Maybe they won't admit it. Either way she knows he doesn't want to hurt her – but he's doomed to.