DANTE
er pink tongue darts out over her bottom lip, and I’m tempted to kiss her, to bite that plump flesh. Her eyes are shiny, iridescent, and I know ifI stare for too long, I’ll get sucked right into their depths.
“What did you think of me the first time you saw me?” I don’t know why I ask this question, but I have often wondered the answer. Maybe because seeing her for the first time was such a profound moment for me. It changed the course of my future. In an instant, I knew what I had to do.
“Honestly, I didn’t think much when I saw you at my mother’s funeral. I don’t even remember much from that time, but I do remember you being there. I thought you looked dangerous, but so did all the other men there. Your eyes stood out to me, though. I felt like you could see right through me. I
