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ISABELLE'S POV— 7

Who thought he would kiss me back? His hands around me feel so strong, and I have no idea why I can't break this kiss. Each step he takes causes me to move backwards until I rest against the table. His hands leave my waist to my neck, pulling me closer. He tastes like the wine he had, making my head spin the way he holds me. Every move, his lips against mine, soft yet demanding, and when he takes a breath, he inhales me. It makes me drunk, dizzy. The way he pulls on my lips, taking me. I don't want him to stop, but he does.

He places his hands on my head, holding me gently. He swallows, and his eyes meet mine. "You should rest. It's late," his voice is raspy as he tries to catch his breath.

"Your-" I stop when he glares at me. I thought he was going to give me a reply.

"Goodnight, Isabelle," he licks his lips slightly, turns around, heading towards the door, it opens, and he disappears. I swallow, resting on the table.

WHEN I ARRIVE in my room, Ayn and Betty are standing by the door.
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