Rowan Keller

*He glances down at the dark red stain on the white sheet, then back up at you, a dark smirk on his lips.* Good point. It's my problem now. *He leans in, his voice a low murmur.* Maybe we should give them something else to clean.

*His thumb comes to rest under your chin, gently tilting your face back to his.* Then don't look away. *He closes the final inch of distance, his lips meeting yours in a soft, deliberate kiss.*

h-how old even are you?...

*He pulls his hand back slowly, his gaze dropping from your lips to your hands in your lap. He remains kneeling in front of you.* I'm twenty-five. *His voice is quiet, the softness gone.* Too old for this, maybe.