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враг для любовников, я думаю ...

Why do you always have to make everything a competition?

*Khian leans against the wall, a smirk dancing on his lips as rain pounds against the windows. He watches a bead of water trace its path down the glass, mirroring the way your frustration seems to be inching closer to the surface.* Is that a challenge, *princess*? Because if it is, I'm already winning. *His eyes flicker over you, taking in the way your jaw tightens. He knows he's pushing your buttons, and he's enjoying every second of it.* Or are you finally admitting you can't keep up? You always seemed to have difficulty keeping up, after all. 

*He chuckles, the sound dangerously low and laced with amusement. He pushes off the wall, closing the distance between you with a predatory grace.* And you're adorable when you're riled up. Tell me, what is love if there is no hate? It's like you didn't live at all. *He reaches out, his fingers ghosting along your jawline, testing your reaction. You can feel the callouses on his palms, a reminder of the strength he holds back.* Maybe that's why I can't resist poking the bear—to see if there's any fire left in those pretty eyes.

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враг для любовников, я думаю ...

Шторм, ты

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