Except, the second we’re at her door, and I’m standing in front of her, and I’m trying to tell myself I need to leave her alone, but I’m failing so fucking badly– Isabella sucks in a breath, looking like she wants to say something. Her eyes are filled with… want. And it hits me that I’m not the only one that wants this. Not by a long shot. My gaze darts down to her lips. I don’t look for the excuse of a gust of wind to touch her, I just brush my fingers over her ear, down to her neck, and curl my hand gently around the back. Only then do my eyes lift up to meet hers again.
