My teeth nibbling just a bit. I slide the shirt off Your shoulders and let it slip to the floor. Massaging Your neck with my hands, placing kisses u... and down Your spine. ?Um....pet? I do believe that dinner is burning?, I freeze and look at the smoke billowing from the pan on the stove. Muttering under my breath I quickly go and take the pan and place it in the sink, running cold water over it. Watching it steam and splatter. Shaking m head I turn back to You ?Oh well, so much for. " "Isabella it- it's not like that!" "Then what the hell is it?!!" He attempts to answer "You know what, save it!" Isabella!" "FUCK YOU!" She pushes him on his chest. Being stronger than her he doesn't move much, just takes a step back giving her space. She jumps down from the counter and pushes him again. He's broken her heart into pieces. He gently tries to hold her hands "Isabella can you just listen--" She quickly snatches her hands away and slaps the shit out of David! So hard his head. He’s a freelance photographer and we’d worked together a handful of years ago on a project I managed. I ran into him on the way home from work and when he invited me to get a drink and catch up I felt compelled to accept the invitation. Ninety minutes and three drinks later we stepped out of the bar and into the evening air, our conversation still going.He was smart and funny and cute. There was a hint of flirtatiousness to our conversation, but not overtly so. It just felt good. I knew he was. I’ve been in weaker panic rooms. Apparently, they valued their security and privacy. I had no doubt that the entire building was built with the same standards. Safe house, panic room, bomb shelter all rolled into one. The outside of the building was standard fare for the area—dirty, pock-marked brick with rusting trim. The windows it once had were broken years ago and boarded.Inside, though, that was another story.I walked toward the end of the hallway—nothing fancy. Worn red carpet and dark.