*Isabella's POV*
Then, just as suddenly as it started, he pulled away. The loss of his warmth, the sudden absence of his lips on mine, was a physical f*****g blow. I stood there, swaying slightly, my hands still clutching the front of his shirt.
"Goodnight, Isabella," he said. His voice was quiet, flat, a stark, brutal contrast to the soul-shattering intensity of the kiss he'd just given me.
And for a second, as I looked into his deep, heavy eyes, I saw it. Another emotion, flickering in the darkness before he could mask it. Regret. A raw, painful regret that hit me like a punch to the gut. Why? What the f**k was there to regret?
He looked back one last time, a long, unreadable glance, before he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous silence of the hallway, leav
