Highest ranking
#1 in utopia
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"It's about how your hips move," the hand that sits on my waist finds my hip, his fingertips trailing lightly along the fabric of my skirt. "When you arch your spine," he continues on, letting that same hand migrate...
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I just had to use this song. And the music vid is one of my faves so enjoy
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"Princess," a ragged whisper breathes across the shell of my ear, bringing me to a shiver in my semi-conscious state. I burrow my head further into my pillow, hoping to hide myself away and fall back into the stretch of a blissful reverie, but with a delicate chuckle, the whisper persists. "Allora. Wake up."
With a grumble of protest, I turn myself and peel open my tired eyes, frowning when I come face to face with a smiling Kian. It takes my sights a moment to adjust, my voice twice the time to find itself before I ask; "what are you doing here?" In a voice scarred by my throat which feels as rough as sandpaper.
"I have a surprise." He answers with a lift of his brows in a telling manner.
"I wasn't expecting you tonight." I mutter in return, dragging myself to sitting in slow, exhausted movements.
"Well, if you were expecting me, it wouldn't be much of a surprise would it?" With the heels of my palms, I rub my eyes hard, bringing forth a kaleidoscope of colors and patterns only I can see, displacing the haze of sleep that still loiters. I sigh and then look at him, blinking slowly to focus Kian once more. He studies me with an amused expression, those hazel eyes of his glinting as they always do.
"Okay," I watch him expectantly as he stands, holding out a hand for me to take.
"It's not here. You've got to come with me." He tells me. I frown, raising to my feet gingerly, not too fond of this plan he has concocted.
"Go where?" I probe. He shakes his head and with a wink, taps the tip of his nose twice.
"That's for me to know princess. Now, come on, get changed." He heads over to my wardrobe and tugs at the handle, brows furrowed when the door doesn't budge. I tut and lift up my index finger, waving it at him so he knows that my clothes are chip protected. An action to which he rolls his eyes, mumbling a chide about how our security is so lacking on our borders, yet my dresses are protected with personal identification. To that, my lips twitch with a bout of amusement.
"What should I wear?" I ask him as I begin to skim through my options.
"Something comfy. Easy to move in. Not too warm." He lists.
Now, it's my turn to roll my eyes. "That narrows it down." I mutter, pursing my lips as I toy with the hem of a single skirt. He sits himself on my bed as I take my time deciding, settling on a thick pair of tights and a smock dress, navy blue to match my boots. I turn around and look at him expectantly, making no move to change.
"What?" He asks.
"I need privacy." I point out. His lips curl to a smirk as his eyes trail up and down my body. Under his scrutinous gaze, I shiver. "Please." I add, just as his eyes flick to meet mine.
