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Masking a change of heart. Femlock Fluff
My blush was spreading from my chest up to my neck under her attentive gaze.
"Do you mean it?" I released in a breath I hadn't realised was being held. What would she respond with? Of course Jean, you fit society's expectations of aesthetics? No, she'd be more inclined to wave her hand and in one flourish dismiss me to my date.
"Do you want for me to mean it?" Her right eyebrow was raised and she flitted her eyes up to mine for only a brief moment. Goddammit! That was more than banter. That had to be a flirty rhetorical question. What was I supposed to think? Do? Say? I didn't seem to have time to wonder before she swept the laptop aside and stood to approach me.
She reached for my left arm and touched the sleeve with her fingers and her eyes. My breath hitched as I watched the fabric smoothen beneath her stroke and contour to the curve of my arm. The heat rose to my cheeks and forehead. Damn my disposition for blushing. She could no doubt see my pulse was rising, could feel the blood rushing through my veins. There had been months of flirtations here and there but I'd never taken it seriously. Sherlock was by her own admission disinterested in the subject of romance and sex. I felt an undeniable instinct that this was the moment the final wall would come down.