we're always running scared but holding knives
Remi isn't the only one indulging in all the little details; this is hardly natural light, but up here away from the harsh fluorescents of the medical wing, she can appreciate how vividly green his eyes are. And for a second her breath catches, Isla able to overlay this boyish, charming version of Remi with the gold-ringed gaze of yesterday's predator. Instead of flushed cheeks, his lips are painted crimson with blood, and instead of soft touches, cool fingers encircle her wrist with precisely the correct amount of pressure, walking a tightrope without a safety net beneath it.
And then his lips are upon hers and somehow both versions of Remi make absolute sense. Melting flush against him, she loops an arm around his neck and reaches up with her free hand to clasp his jaw with gentle fingers, as if he might change his mind. Swallowing up the moan that shivers from his throat, its nevertheless another long, indulgent few seconds before Isla can muster the self-control to even come up for air.
Even then she barely parts from him, drawing a breath that feels unnecessary and planting a kiss against the corner of his mouth.
And then his lips are upon hers and somehow both versions of Remi make absolute sense. Melting flush against him, she loops an arm around his neck and reaches up with her free hand to clasp his jaw with gentle fingers, as if he might change his mind. Swallowing up the moan that shivers from his throat, its nevertheless another long, indulgent few seconds before Isla can muster the self-control to even come up for air.
Even then she barely parts from him, drawing a breath that feels unnecessary and planting a kiss against the corner of his mouth.
Isla
