the pause between breathing

"Knives?" Isla tilts her head, though she's not surprised. "Let's see if I can remember how many you put on the nightstand last time. Or are there more now?" Raising a brow, she shifts a fraction and begins to pat him down, slowly and carefully, making sure to linger on all the places where there isn't padding, places that might feel good. And any blades she does find end up tossed to the ground with his shirt - five in total, so far, before she's unbuckling and unbuttoning and pulling at fastenings to try and free him. "I don't think I have ever worked so hard to get someone naked before," Isla mumbles, playfully annoyed as she shifts to try and tug off his pants come hell or high water. Whether or not she succeeds doesn't matter - when she gets bored she'll shimmy out of her skirt, kick off her shoes and move to drape herself over him for another kiss. Isla the flesh is weak