Camila tilted her head slightly, a soft smile playing at her lips as she took a measured step closer. Her voice, low and demure, carried a teasing warmth that seemed to wrap around me. "Are you sure about that, Kafka?" She asked gently, the question lingering in the air like a whispered secret.
I tried to keep my composure, but there was something about the way she moved—fluid, graceful, her hips swaying in a way that made it impossible to look away. The scent of her perfume, light and familiar, curled in the space between us, making it harder to focus.
"Y-Yeah." I managed, though my voice sounded more uncertain than I intended. "Still no."
Camila's eyes sparkled with quiet amusement as she caught the hesitation in my tone. She let out a soft, melodic laugh, stepping closer until the air felt charged with her presence. "Really?" She said, her voice a mere murmur as her gaze held mine. "You don't sound so sure anymore."
