[ He doesn't hesitate to let her undress him. He's surprised to manage that much control, as it is, keeping himself still under her touch, under her gaze, his skin burning whenever her fingertips graze. There's an intensity in the act, in the look on her face and the way he leans into her touch, wanting it and so much more, an intensity he can't quite comprehend, more than anything he's ever had before. And at the same time, it's soft and unrushed, Isabelle taking her time undoing him, from the inside out.
He lifts his arms over his head for his shirt to be discarded, and then reaches out to her, his fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt, lifting it off of her a little, exposing the black panties she's wearing. He feels like he can't breathe, eyes devouring her as he slowly lifts the fabric to show more of her to him. Nothing he's never seen before - she is fond of midriff baring shirts, and he's thankful for it. ]
So gorgeous.
[ The words leave him in a whisper, awed and distracted, but completely heartfelt. ]
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He lifts his arms over his head for his shirt to be discarded, and then reaches out to her, his fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt, lifting it off of her a little, exposing the black panties she's wearing. He feels like he can't breathe, eyes devouring her as he slowly lifts the fabric to show more of her to him. Nothing he's never seen before - she is fond of midriff baring shirts, and he's thankful for it. ]
So gorgeous.
[ The words leave him in a whisper, awed and distracted, but completely heartfelt. ]