Hawke's POV

Something smelled like stale cat piss. The stench made my eyes begin to open and they burned a bit. I vaguely remembered passing out. My vision was a bit blurry, but I could almost make out a face. First off, it was a man. White, scruffy, and blonde. That was somewhat unsettling, considering whose apartment I was in. I said a few silent prayers, hoping that I wasn't going to wake up with a new hole in my body or a crude tattoo. "Who…?"

"Hawke, oh thank God!" Isabela's hazy visage appeared next to the man's, taking away the smelly rag. As I began to focus, she hugged and shook me violently. "Don't you ever do that again!"

"Sorry, I guess…" I blinked at the scruffy man. "Who are you?" Isabela began to stand me upright, and I noticed that the man in question was actually a dwarf. Or little person; whichever was considered politically correct. He had a ridiculously furry chest that was obvious through his mostly unbuttoned shirt. The top of his head was just below my chest as he stood a foot away.

He smiled and held out a hand. "Varric Tethras. Isabela's friend and neighbor. Who are you?"

I inventoried his mode of dress. Burgundy silk top, black slacks, big necklace, tons of rings. Mob? "Cassandra Hawke, Isabela's girlfriend…" I shook his hand nervously, not sure how much pressure it would take to hurt him. I am twice the size of this guy, even if he is stocky. And there's no way I'm going to accidentally hurt some Don. I'd be dead in a week.

"I ask again, Rivaini. What the hell?" He held his hands up to her as she led me to sit on the footlocker. "Since when do you have a girlfriend?"

Since when have I been claimed by anyone? She walked to the kitchen to grab me a glass of water. "It's a recent development." She said politely.

He laughed as he leaned against the closet. "No shit! You were single last night!"

"You know me. Full of surprises." Isabela shot me a smile as she sat next to me.

He rubbed his forehead in frustration. "Where did you find this one? Gamestop? Used book store? ASPCA?"

I finished my water and raised my hand toward him. "I'm right here!" He arched an eyebrow at me, a slight smile on his broad face. "We met at the party last night. It occurs to me that you were the DD she mentioned." I handed her the empty glass and she nodded at me before heading back to the kitchen.

He tapped a finger against his forehead. "Oh how the dots connect. You're the rugby player she talked about this morning." He grinned brightly. He seems to know something I don't…

Isabela coughed as she re-entered the room. "Yes, she is." Now shut up and leave so we can get down to business.

"Well then, good night to the both of you." Varric gave a sarcastic bow and began to walk toward the door. He paused in the threshold, and looked back to my hostess. "And next time, Rivaini, give me a heads up. I'll have first aid and earplugs on standby." She rolled her eyes as he closed the door behind him.

"Holy fucking chest hair! That's your 'old friend'?" I gave her a wild and confused look.

The mysterious older woman chuckled as she sat at the end of the bed. "The man fur is something, isn't it?"

I scratched at my head. "Where did you come to know such a strange little man?"

"It's a really long story," was her only reply.

"Well, we've got time. I'm still recovering from a minor panic attack, after all." I stretched and looked at the clock. 6:30.

She sighed as she cradled my jaw in one hand. "We should discuss that little incident." Her smile faltered and Isabela looked genuinely worried about me as she stroked my cheek with her thumb. Maybe I shouldn't have pushed her so quickly. But the car earlier… I'm so ready it hurts.

I gave a minor smirk. "A tale for a tale?"

She stood up and took my hands. "Come on Hawke, let's sit on the couch." She led me to the living room and I sat on the loveseat. It was definitely expensive and vintage, but surprisingly comfortable. She walked to the large French door refrigerator. "Want something to drink?" She chimed from within the open door.

"No thank you." I smiled politely as she made herself a Cuba Libre. I chuckled a bit when she threw in the lime wedge and tiny umbrella. "And here I thought you would drink like a pirate, since you swear like a sailor."

Isabela pulled out a coaster before sitting next to me, close to the window. "You'll understand once you hear my little story."

I crossed my legs and turned my body toward her. "I'm all ears."

She took a sip of her drink and cleared her throat. "My husband, Luis, owned several businesses, the largest being a shipping company. International trade; very tight-lipped and extremely profitable stuff. Mostly illegal, of course."

"Your husband was a smuggler?" Isabela Rivaini, the Pirate Queen of the Eastern Seas. Minus the husband, that's pretty hot.

"Yes, but of what, I'm still not entirely sure. Anyway, he used to hold wild parties on his yacht once a month. Hand shaking, open bar, waitresses in bikinis, polo shirts. Dreadful, really. My purpose was to sit next to him and look pretty. In silence." She gestured with her drink before taking a long sip.

I let out a long breath, choosing my words wisely. "Wow, Luis sounds like a dick… But where does your neighbor come in?"

"Varric attended one of these parties. The Tethras family and their associates owned all of the important docks in Florida. They call themselves the Merchant's Guild. I had met his brother, Bartrand, a few occasions prior. He was, for lack of better words, slimier than an eel. But Varric isn't like that. He actually took the time to talk to me like an adult. He is a genius with money. Got his Master's in Macro-Economics from Kirkwall. After my husband died, he helped me figure out my financials. And when I mentioned wanting to restart, he suggested I come here to go to school. Made a good case for my admission, too." She finished her drink and walked back into the kitchen to make another. I turned toward her, eager for more information.

"So he's in the mob or something? And why is he up here if his business is in Florida?"

"Cat, meet curiosity." Isabela gave me a wicked grin and dropped an extra ice cube into her cocktail. She sashayed over and took back her spot. Good to know she is interested in my stories almost as much as my body. "I'm joking. Varric's family had a bit of a falling out with the rest of the Merchants. Someone narced, someone else got killed, the Feds got involved, the IRS showed up. Big nasty mess. So House Tethras got booted from the Guild altogether. Can't step foot in the state again. Luckily, he had some very legal and very secure investments that weren't confiscated when the RICO case went down. He took his money and ran up here with me. Decided to go back to school for a bachelor's in English; something about 'broadening his horizons'. He's also a high priority financial advisor in the area. Meanwhile, his dumbass brothers live together in a trailer park somewhere in the Carolina's." She chuckled and played with her cocktail umbrella.

I reached out to take her free hand, squeezing it gently. "I hope he doesn't mind that you told me this stuff about him. I'd hate to piss off an ex-mobster." I don't want to get whacked, or sleep with fishes, or be incased in cement.

She smiled contently at me before sipping at her drink. "It's better that I told you anyway. His passion is storytelling. He would have inflated the truth to better his ego, and we'd be required to listen absorbedly all night."

I cleared my throat nervously. "Speaking of truth… Your husband."

She sighed and placed her spent drink on the table. Good one Gorbachev, grab a sledgehammer and go straight for the wall. "Luis Verduzco." It was calm, but ice cold. The tension in her body increased tenfold and her smile faded to nothing. The room was still except for some intermittent blinking.

"You don't talk about him." I gulped hard, sensing bad blood.

Isabela's jaw was set. "Not often, and never fondly."

I had to ask the obvious question. "But you were married?"

"That's another long story." She reached out to grab her umbrella, spinning it between anxious fingers. She was staring down at her hands, a solemn expression on her face.

"Please?" I lifted her chin to look into her eyes. Their pure gold was murky with discomfort, and her face was grim, to say the least. "I promise to never ask about him again." I made my request as gently as possible.

Might as well save the awkwardness and get it over with. After a thoughtful moment, a slight smirk lit up her face. "That'd be two stories. Are you willing to meet the exchange fairly?" She tilted her head with amusement.

I leaned in close, talking softly against her lips. "Tell me about your ex, Isabela, and I promise you two very interesting tales about myself." The desire to kiss her was overpowering, and I quickly buckled. The faint taste of rum and coke was arousing, but I cut myself off before I could get carried away. She licked her lips as I pulled away, looking utterly smug. Come to think of it, I'm feeling a little chatty.

"Hm. I accept. But I need another drink." She tapped her glass before heading back to the kitchen. She gave up on the cocktails and went straight for the rum. She poured two small glasses of dark rum and shot me a 'no nonsense' look. Tipsy Hawke could be fun. And if she wants to be my girlfriend, she'll have to learn to keep up. I nearly complained that I didn't get a garnish, but decided against it. She handed me my drink and settled back down. "Well, I suppose I should start at the very beginning." She glanced at me as I stared down my rum.

This is obviously some sort of test. Maybe a social experiment. I had never had rum straight before, but if that's what it would take to impress her, I was game. I gave a quick mental prayer before taking a sip. My eyes widened and Isabela began to chuckle at me, shaking her head. Damn, that's intense. I fought it down, feeling my face redden. "By all means, spare no details." I quickly set the glass down, attempting to look attentive.

Still just a pup. She rolled her eyes at me as she sipped her own drink. "Alright. I never had a father. My mother never told me who or where he was. I doubt even she knew for sure. She wasn't exactly the loving type. Hit the pipe a lot." She gestured toward her mouth as if smoking something, but there was a gap between her fingers.

"Crack?" Oh, Isabela…

She nodded with a scowl. "Yeah. I lived alone my last two years of high school while she commuted between jail and court-ordered rehab." She swirled her glass around nervously.

"They didn't put you in foster care?" I picked up my own drink, no longer bothered by the taste.

"I convinced a neighbor to falsify some documents, made it look like I was being supervised by another adult. I wanted to live alone. I was already taking care of myself, anyway, and it nice not having to peel a crackhead off of the couch to make sure she was still breathing or steal cash from her purse to buy food. I could finally be a priority." Her eyes fell to the floor, and I placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

I asked the one thing I didn't really want to know. "What did you do for money?"

"Odd jobs mostly. My fake documents came with fake IDs. By the time I was graduating, I took a job as a waitress at a strip club. Kept the lights on, learned to mix drinks from the bartender, and the hours worked well around my school and swim schedule. Well, Luis owned it. He was already over 30, Cuban, and smoked cigars like it was going out of style. He offered me a large pay raise if I danced at the club. I declined several times. But my mother came back from another stent at rehab and 'found a purpose'. What she found was a cult. Started giving away all of my hard-earned money when I wasn't looking. I got desperate." She took a long sip at her drink. I could tell that she was holding back tears, and it hurt me to watch. I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she barely curled her lips. I sipped at my drink, gaining back some liquid courage. I feared my current conversational path, but was determined to see through her troubled amber eyes.

"So you took his offer?" I choked out.

Isabela took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "As it turns out, becoming a stripper is simple. You sleep with the boss." Her glass tightened in her grasp and I set my jaw.

"That doesn't sound very consensual."

She exhaled slowly, sinking into the couch. "That's because it wasn't… Not entirely. He got me nice and drunk before he made me take my clothes off to 'inspect the goods'. That was standard procedure. But the bastard couldn't stop there. He told me I was gorgeous, smart, etc, etc. Then he took my virginity right on his desk. Worst of all, I got pregnant." My entire body tensed up and my muscles burned. Her voice was wavering, and tears were starting to collect at the edges of her closed eyes.

I hope his death was slow and painful. I couldn't think of what to say. "Shit." I muttered before downing the rest of my drink, setting it back on the coaster with extra force.

Isabela gulped hard, fighting her emotions. "Yeah. My mother found out, called me all sorts of names, and we confronted Luis. She claimed she'd press charges, he swore he didn't know I was only 17. They went back and forth like I wasn't even there. Next thing I know, they make a compromise. I would marry him on my 18th birthday to make it all kosher, and he would use one of his ships to take her little cult to live on some island in the middle of nowhere." Selfish bitch. She shook her head at the frustrating memories.

I was taking deep breaths, restraining the sudden urge to punch a hole through the nearest wall. "Your mother forced you to marry a total creep so that she could run off with a bunch of nuts?" I rubbed my forehead in my fury, suddenly understanding why police officers and social workers are prone to alcoholism.

"I didn't have much say in the matter. I really didn't want to be a single parent. A rich asshole father had to be better than none at all, as far as I knew. So my dumb ass agreed to be his little trophy wife. Gave his associates a reason to think he was a family man; someone that they could trust. Joke was on both of us. He rushed the wedding and forgot to arrange a pre-nup; I miscarried at the end of my first trimester."

I took a deep breath while a mix of emotions ran through me. Rage, jealousy, disgust, sadness, loathing, and discomfort jumbled my mind, making it difficult to speak. "That's… I don't know what to say."

Isabela opened her eyes and shrugged. "I'm kind of glad it turned out that way. It wouldn't have been much of a life for a child. I stayed married to that sack of shit for about four years, being treated like an object to be paraded in front of princes and businessmen. Oh sure, he bought me things to keep me appeased, but if I got out of hand, he would lock me away somewhere with a bottle of wine and a dirty book. Told everyone I was indisposed." Her face went from poignant to vengeful as she finished her drink.

"Sounds like he was a sexist and a disgrace to the human race… But how did he die?" I retrieved my arm from around her shoulders, clenching my fists in my lap. I was retraining myself, but my nails were digging into my palms.

She rubbed her chest and cleared her throat. "He asked me to dance for his friends at one of his parties. I refused. Instead, I told one of his rivals that Luis was screwing them over in a deal. Which, ironically, was true. They blew up his favorite yacht. While he was on it." Isabela actually smiled cruelly at that, and I dare say that I did too. "My hands are just as clean as my conscience when it comes to Luis' death, so I had no trouble taking ownership of his swindled millions." It's the least I deserve after five years with you, prick. Part of me was actually amused by the thought that Karma took him, but it still didn't seem sufficient.

"If I had known you then, I would have killed him in the most painful way possible for having the impudence to touch you. Then I would lock your mother in an insane asylum and take care of you and your baby." I took her hands and brought them to my mouth for a sprinkling of light kisses. I'd break his legs, then his arms, leaving him completely helpless. Then I'd cut him. Shallow at first, but ever deeper. And just as he would beg for death, I'd cauterize the wounds before starting all over again. And then I'd download tons of kiddy porn on his computer and leave the cops an anonymous tip. A child molester who can't fight back? He'd be a hit in prison. I could feel my eyes shining at the malevolent thoughts. He got off far too easily.

If I didn't know any better, I'd think she was going through murder scenarios. Isabela caught the shine in my eyes and her pupils dilated. God, she totally is. Fucking shit, lace underwear has never felt so uncomfortable. She shivered lightly before beaming at me. "I know that, sweetness. You're a knight in shining armor, bound to protect my honor. The exact opposite of my ex-husband. And a hell of a lot sexier." She pulled me in for an alcohol-laced kiss; hot, wet, and demanding.

I broke it off long enough to breathe, a cocky grin my new calling card. "Damn straight." She was leaning back and I was halfway on her lap already, still holding her hands as our lips and tongues tangled sloppily. Not on the couch! I broke away, gasping and panting like a marathon runner. "But what about your mom?"

She groaned. "As far as I know, she's still farming with her community on their little cult island. I sent word to her after I lost the baby and after Luis died. Never got any response. If I find her grave, I'll dance on it."

I squeezed her hands tenderly. "That couldn't be easy to talk about."

"Well, you'd be the first. Outside of Varric, of course." She blinked hesitantly, a slight smile at the edges of her mouth. I've never stalled sex with story time before. She is Linus' fucking blanket!

I looked into her eyes, and I found a sacred trust in their amber depths. Something rare and exquisite, to be treasured. "That's… gratifying. Being your confidante, I mean." I was a bit nervous, now responsible for keeping those intimate secrets safe, but I tried not to show it. I smiled warmly, bringing her hand against my cheek.

I spilled my sobbing guts, and she's ok. She's not running away from my baggage, or asking me if I've seen a therapist. "It is, isn't it?" Isabela softly stroked my cheek and jaw, and I closed my eyes like a content pussycat. Hawke makes me feel… good. Secure, happy, excited, and carefree. I can trust her with all of this. I want her to trust me too. She pulled me in for a single kiss, and broke it off with a slightly tipsy grin. "But I believe you owe me some tales, Ms. Cassandra Hawke."

"My first little story requires a visual." I cleared my throat and sat back. She gave me a confused look as I turned my back to her. I pulled my left leg onto the couch and folded it under me, then quickly lifted my shirt over my head, placing it in my lap.

Hello there! Oh… that's what she meant… It took her a moment to notice my scar. "What happened there?" I knew exactly what it looked like. It used to haunt my teenage dreams, and even now it left me self-conscious. It was large and pink, vaguely the size and shape of a shoe, just to the left of my right shoulder blade and just above the band of my bra. Hawke… She ran an uncertain finger along the border, and I shivered at the softness of the caress. It had been healed for years, so it didn't hurt, but part of me still wanted to wince. While I had just heard of her painful past, she was a physical witness to mine. Her fingertips brushed over the marking, and I faintly recognized that I was slightly undressed. In front of her. On her couch. In her apartment.

I cleared my throat nervously. "Once upon a time, a runaway met a young soldier. My mom, Leandra, came from a rich and very strict family, but became a menace. My dad, Malcolm, was a really smart man, but couldn't afford college, so he joined the Army." I smiled as she lightly kissed my neck, her hands gently stroking my sides. Latissimus dorsi, external obliques… Her hair brushed over my shoulders and it tickled, almost causing me to lose track of my story. "Anyway, cue romantic music and near instantaneous pregnancy. Once I was born, my dad found a job as a government contractor. He did the same job for three times the pay. And life was good, even after the twins were born. Bethany and Carver are five years younger than I am."

At least pretend to pay attention. Isabela ran her thumbs along my spine. "So they're what, 15ish?" T12, T11, T10…

"They turned 14 in the spring. Bethany's a girly girl. Wears dresses and makeup, keeps her hair long, the whole deal. Makes me look like a shitty daughter in comparison. Carver is the opposite. Snips and snails and puppy dog tails. He and I would wrestle over every little thing. Still do, on occasion." I chuckled at the memories of rolling on the floor, biting and pulling hair while mother screamed at us from the other room.

She ran her hands just up to the band on my bra before stopping. "It all sounds so peaceful… What happened?"

I took a deep breath, willing my body not to give away my discomfort. "Well, when I was 15, my dad took a trip to Afghanistan. And never came back. His truck hit an IED, killing him instantly."

Isabela pulled her hands back as if she feared hurting me. "I'm so sorry."

I shook my head and sighed. "Don't worry about it, baby. I made my peace years ago." It seems we've hit the endearment stage... I can live with that. I've been called much worse things, after all. She began to massage my lower back with her thumbs, and although I wasn't sore, it felt like heaven. I groaned under her expertise, and laid my legs across the loveseat, leaning into her. "After my dad's funeral, some Anti-War assholes started some trouble with my family. Saying that it was his own fault for meddling with someone else's country. They were the parents of some kids that went to my high school. A group of junior and senior boys. No one I knew personally, since I was a sophomore and in most of the higher-level courses, but they were always hanging around. Carver was home sick one day, and I was walking Beth home from her school down the street. Without warning, the four of them came out of an alley and decided to take us on."

I was lying completely against Isabela, with the back of my head pillowed against her breasts. My body felt like jelly, as if her arms around my waist were the only things keeping me from slipping into the floor. "Now mind you, I had already hit puberty, so I was only an inch or two shorter than I am now. But my little sister was only 10 and skinnier than a twig. One of them started talking smack and reached for her, so I broke his nose. Bethany ran off just as they began to beat the snot out of me. I got a few good hits in, of course, but the odds were stacked against me. The oldest one, Jeff, decided to bring spray paint to a fist fight. He lit it and burnt my back while the others held me down. Cops showed up and threw them in their cruisers before sticking me in an ambulance. Turns out someone had already called 911 when they saw the boys tagging a building." I gulped at the memory, but I was nearly numb, having repeated the story hundreds of times in therapy.

"How bad were you hurt?" Isabela traced her finger down to my navel, then back up to my sternum. Fucking miscreants, touching what's mine… Oh, shit. I just referred to her as 'mine'. Must be these abdominals. Or the rum... Her breasts are pretty nice too. They're larger without the shirt, and this poor bra is a might too small…

I couldn't tell if the touch was meant to be comforting or sexual, but it was definitely both. "Two broken ribs, a fractured right ulna, another fracture in my left tibia, a ruptured spleen, some busted knuckles, and my back. It took me two months to heal. The burn was the worst. It was only second degree but, as you saw, it's a pretty big patch of real estate."

"How was the pain? Second degree is supposed to be the most excruciating." She sat me up and did a more thorough inspection of the damage. Isabela gently pushed on the area with her fingertips, as if feeling for lumps. They must have used a Vitamin E oil ointment. She healed very well, considering.

"Textbooks have that part right. It was nearly unbearable. Spent the first six weeks on heavy doses of Vicodin, and the next two weeks coming down off of it. We moved out to the countryside shortly after. Once my bones were in fighting shape I took up rugby as part of an Anger Management/PTSD program, along with some counseling. Now only the scar remains. And a high pain tolerance, which is pretty handy for an athlete. If anyone asks about my back I give them the 'you ought to see the other guy' treatment. Beside the guy with the broken nose, another one broke his favorite wrist, his buddy dislocated his pitching arm, and Jeff turned into someone's bitch in Juvy." I was actually laughing at the end, remembering how one of my friends from school called to tell me all about their misfortunes. 'Hey Red, you've got to hear this shit… Will got kicked off the baseball team, Tom can't even whack off, Michael looks like a jacked up Klingon, and Jeff… Well, someone found his Chamber of Secrets! When you fuck a man, you fuck him for life!'

Isabela pulled me back into her lap, her fingertips tracing the muscles of my stomach. "So you're a regular badass. Karma's enforcer. The Black Knight of the Bridge. The Hand of God." She began tickling my sides, and the only hands I could focus on were hers. Her breath was warm against my ear, and I was beyond shame at being topless as I wiggled against her front. She paused her motions. "But why did you choose a History/Government double major? It just seems a bit… lame."

I fought back the rest of my laughter, tilting my head into her chest to look at her face. "I can't join the military since my spleen was removed. So, I figured I could become a Congresswoman. And everyone in government should know their country's history, lest they be doomed to repeat it." I tapped her chin. Her eyebrow was arched, and her lips were pursed just an inch or so above my own. She was clearly amused, which was a good sign.

"Well, I'd vote for you." Shit, I'd be your campaign manager. Isabela gave me a light peck on the mouth.

I smiled up at her, motioning to my somewhat undressed figure. "You're just saying that to get in my pants."

She ran an affectionate hand through my hair. "Not at all… Unless it's working?" Her expression went from caring to licentious in the span of a second. Isabela bent her head down and her lips barely brushed mine, sending a tingly feeling shooting through my body, headed due south. Two tales, Hawke.

I pulled back slightly, trying to focus on the task at hand. "You don't have to butter me up any further to get me into bed. But I think I owe you an explanation about that little panic attack." I remarked coolly, looking directly into her gorgeous golden eyes.

She sat up straight, her palms resting on my ribs. "Oh, yes! I nearly forgot already." She shook her head lightly.

"I have one every two years or so. Usually when I'm under extreme stress."

"What triggered this one?" Isabela tilted her head curiously, with a hint of worry on her beautiful face.

I cleared my throat and wrung the shirt in my hands. I averted my gaze to my own lap, embarrassed about the earlier episode. "Well… I was nervous about… you know, pleasing you. And about my scar. I thought it would freak you out."

She pulled me tighter into her lap and scraped her nose along the hollow of my neck. "Hawke, Hawke, Hawke. You don't honestly believe I would throw you out over that, do you?" I'm not that shallow and insensitive. Not with you.

"You're just so…" I fought a large lump in my throat as her lips brushed under my ear. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, Isabela. And I'm really inexperienced. Like really inexperienced."

Isabela chuckled against my pulse as her fingertips drifted over my torso. "You've already informed me of that. And don't take your own body for granted. As far as I can tell, you're a perfect anatomical specimen, scar be damned. Medically speaking, you're stupid toned. You must spend hours at the gym." There was a barely audible groan at the end, making certain parts of my anatomy beg for a workout.

I moved my head to the side, allowing her full access to my neck. She quickly accepted the invitation, and began a regimen a small kisses and bites. As ungodly aroused as I was, I still chatted nervously. "Not as many as you would think. I run six days a week, go to practice or run drills about three times a week, and go to the gym on my off days. But sometimes I get swamped, and have to miss out." Right now you're missing out on Isabela's thighs and the glorious space in between. I moaned as her tongue slid like velvet under my jaw.

She must have the metabolism of a hummingbird. She pressed herself tight against my back and began lightly scratching my stomach. "How far do you run?" I could tell by the tone of her voice and the feel of her hands that she was just as hot as I was.

"I did 10 miles this morning. I kind of lost track of time." I was losing track of a lot of things, but not the sensation of hard nipples rubbing against my back. With every hastened breath, she was bringing me closer to a state of delirium that I could never reach with my own two hands. Good lord, I'm not even naked yet! My eyes were firmly shut as her luscious lips took their time with my oversensitive pulse.

"Looks, check. Strength, check. Stamina, check. I hate to tell you, but your concerns have thus far been unfounded." Her fingertips began a trip southward, leaving me shivering and taking shallow breaths. Her thumbs traced the top of my pants and I lifted my hips, encouraging her to finish what she started. My heart was pounding a steady rhythm as her left hand moved closer to the button of my jeans. "To prove it, I'll be taking that!" Her right hand grabbed the shirt from my hands as she tore her lips from my neck.

"Hey!" I wasn't sure if I was angry about my clothes being snatched, or the fact that she had successfully teased me nearly to the point of begging. My eyes shot open and I turned in her arms. She looked utterly amused as she held the ill-gained garment at arm's length. Isabela's chest was puffed out from lying back on the arm of the loveseat, and she was so sexy that it was hard to be mad. You want to play games? I can play games. I climbed onto her lap and reached out to take back my clothes, but she slid her thigh between my legs, stopping me dead in my tracks. I made a strange squeaking sound as she tossed the shirt behind her and kissed the top of my breast. I hadn't noticed the unfortunate position I left myself in when I unintentionally put my chest in her face, but it was evident that she now had the upper hand.

"Ah, ah, ah. Sorry wolf eyes, no shirt for you until further notice." She dug her nails into my hips, quickly immobilizing me. Her kisses were hard, almost possessive. Isabela was assuring her dominance for the night and I was more than alright with that. Even if I was going to be covered in lipstick by morning.

I reined in my extended arm and buried my hands in her hair, allowing her to give my chest as much attention as she wanted. "You know, I'm starting to like that nickname." I let out a growl as she scraped her teeth along my sternum.

"It fits. Unlike that bra you're wearing. Such a terrible restraint, don't you think?" She hooked a finger into the front of it, pulling slightly. Admittedly, it did feel a bit tight, so it probably wasn't a proper fit. But I wasn't one for underwear shopping, and I just grabbed the first plain black bra I could find. "I'd like to slap the person who sold you as a B." She groaned as her other hand began reaching up my back.

I slid back in her lap, putting us face to face. It was pretty uncomfortable due the friction of her knee against my crotch, but it temporarily halted her hand's momentum. "I think that if I'm going to be undressing any further, I won't be alone in doing so." I smiled down at her, tracing the strap of her tank top.

She ran her middle finger down my spine and batted her eyelashes. "You want me naked, Hawke?" Her sweet but manipulative voice in combination with her deliberate teasing made me shiver.

"I very much want you naked, Isabela." I leaned forward, barely brushing my lips against hers. "But not in your living room." I whispered before slowly moving away.