[She's better able to make that turn now that she's out of her heels, another piece of assistance on a long list of things she hasn't said thank you for. She's not really about to start now. Maybe not all that willing to acknowledge that she's been lulled into something slow and warm and lazy either--(It's not her first time, even if he had teased her about inexperience.) It was safer to be angry, to use his hair as a rein and imagine how fragile he was under his arrogance. But she can watch his stupidly long eyelashes from this distance, can smell the soap he used and would rather feel out the heat radiating from his skin, palms open across his shoulders, heavy against his neck.
They both look drunk, disheveled in a doorway with swollen mouths and pinked skin. It's a different sort of predication that she's not blind to, but she'd rather he stayed.]
You're staying?
[Her pitch has gotten throaty, breath heavier under her sternum. She'd have preferred that statement sounded like less of a question.]
no subject
They both look drunk, disheveled in a doorway with swollen mouths and pinked skin. It's a different sort of predication that she's not blind to, but she'd rather he stayed.]
You're staying?
[Her pitch has gotten throaty, breath heavier under her sternum. She'd have preferred that statement sounded like less of a question.]