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Summary
Your fingers trail down the smooth line of her back, catching on the tiny zipper of her dress, tracing the fragile vertebrae beneath skin gone warm from adrenaline, and maybe one too many drinks. She shudders, just barely, a flicker of breath catching in her throat like it surprised even her.
“You’re playing with fire.” You whisper, leaning in, your voice a breath against her neck. Angel doesn’t pull back, doesn’t even blink, her mouth just brushes yours – open, daring, the curve of a smirk blooming right against your lips.
“Mi vida, ” She murmurs, eyes burning, “I am the fire.”
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