She enters the room first, her heels echoing on the wooden floor and her dress still clinging to her curves as if it had been molded for her. I close the door firmly behind us, the key turning in the lock, sealing the promise I've carried in my eyes since the first second I saw her at that party: she is mine.
Isa turns slowly, her eyes shining under the low light of the lamp. The hesitation in her is sweet, but also provocative. An invitation and a challenge.
"You…" she begins, but I don't let her finish.
I take two steps toward her and cup her face in my hands, my thumbs caressing her cheeks. "You are beautiful, Isabella. Too beautiful for this world."
I kiss her firmly, taking possession. My tongue meets hers with urgency, but with care, as if to say: I am here, completely, for you.
