She looks like a cat as she pads closer, like she’s made one kill and is hungry for a second, the other woman’s scent hot on her breath.
But that’s not what you want from her right now. You rise up and look at her.
“Lay down,” you say.
She looks confused for a moment, and disheartened, but she does as you command.
You move to kneel beside her, resting a fluttering hand on her knee, and wonder if she can feel how fast your heart is beating through it. You haven’t done this much before, there was that one time in college, but that hardly counts – you lean over her and kiss her, just like she kissed the redhead earlier.
Her lips are softer than any man’s as they part, fuller, sweeter – but the hands that sweep up to play in your hair and tilt your face, pulling you close, hold just as mu
