Send me “Kiss me, quick!” and I’ll generated a number from 1-25 to see where my muse will have to kiss yours:
The shock of blonde hair came into his view from the moment he stepped into the peculiar coffee shop. He was allowed to pay visits more freely, he’d wager – after all he saw and still more that he had to see, Cesare half expected wings to spread from one of the many costumers that seemed to have found a fondness to the girl’s place. Not that it mattered to him; at least not in the sense it would to common people. Though, of course, it went without a say that Cesare Borgia was hardly normal; even to the standards of those people idly and obliviously ambling through the streets.
She hadn’t notice his entrance – or perhaps she had, he could not be sure anymore. The element of surprise was truly one of his favorite weapons at his disposal, and he made use of it with incredible dexterity; yet with her, he’d soon figured it was nearly impossible to use and provoke the desired, so very involuntary reaction.
Not that this halted his intentions, of course.
The place was packed, more than usual it appeared - but then again, how many times had she not distracted him from his work? Besides, the dusky rays of the evening told closing time was not far from arriving; surely, he could steal those last few minutes without a single drop of shame.
From the corner of his eye - after having glanced at a few titles of the books on the wooden shelves – he caught Allie moving to the back of the shop; and a few seconds later, Cesare turned on the spot and followed her path. Truly it was inevitable; he’d always gravitate closer, she’d always lead him somewhere – their dance would never stop, and this thrilling game enraptured him more than he’d say at loud voices.
The Spaniard grinned once he found her again in the hallway to her office; the smug curve of his lips impossible to halt as he stepped closer, behind her. Without any regard for personal space, he soon caught her tiny waist in the firm but smooth grasp of his hands – pulling the lithe figure of the girl closer to him ‘till her back rested against his torso.
“Say, would you mind if I kidnapped you for a bit of dinner right this moment, darling?” The smirk tugged higher, the hot breath of his words whispered against her ear while one of his hands trailed to her forearm – caressing her soft flesh with the pad of his thumb. “I certainly hope not, I like to believe you missed me.”
A somewhat coarse laughter escaped him - lost in the blonde tresses. His hand then dipped into his pocket as he retrieved a petite, velvety scarlet box which contained a simple (to his view, at least) gift from his most recent trip to Spain.
“For you,” he placed the box on her hand before leaning back – softly brushing away the hair from the nape of her neck. Cesare bowed lower, pressing his lips against the porcelain skin in a soft kiss, as he allowed for the lingering scent of her hair to intoxicate each and all of his senses.
