when it's just the two of us, only the two of us
"I don't believe you, somehow," Isla mutters; she doesn't quite growl it in the way that Remi does, and the glint in her eyes is more hazy and ethereal than menacing, but there's no doubt that it's still predatory in nature. He slides up the length of her body and she releases him only to let her hands devour him afresh; Isla's fingers enjoy the journey from his collarbones, down his sternum and over a torso that may as well be carved from marble, and a fresh tug of arousal surprises her with its intensity.
She has to have him too, she realises, if in a slightly different way. She wants to hear her name ring from his lips, she wants to be the reason that he throws caution and restraint to the wind, the madness that consumes him in this moment. Leaning her cheek into his hand, she flashes him a smile that's at odds with the look in her eyes, such is its sweetness. "Then what are you waiting for?" she asks.
In the meantime her fingers are finally working on the buttons of his pants, that Isla might slip her hand beneath his waistband to grip hold of him and squeeze.
She has to have him too, she realises, if in a slightly different way. She wants to hear her name ring from his lips, she wants to be the reason that he throws caution and restraint to the wind, the madness that consumes him in this moment. Leaning her cheek into his hand, she flashes him a smile that's at odds with the look in her eyes, such is its sweetness. "Then what are you waiting for?" she asks.
In the meantime her fingers are finally working on the buttons of his pants, that Isla might slip her hand beneath his waistband to grip hold of him and squeeze.
i could die
Isla
