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My eyes are torn. The tight cup of her skirt sways no less provocatively than when I followed her to the table earlier. But now, pinched between her tantalizingly manicured right thumb and forefinger, is a tiny globe of dough that holds all the promise of a first kiss.
I follow as single-mindedly as the puppy trained on the tiny bite of kibble in his master's hand.
I have zero pride, and I can't bring myself to care.
Bella doesn't slow down as I reach around her to push open the heavy door, releasing us into the inviting night air.
A/N: Shall we follow them outside? Maybe just one more... XXX ~BOH