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You wake up in her bedroom this time, your head still feeling woozy. You should hate her. You should be afraid, and want to run as far away from her as possible. The woman is a living, breathing red flag. And yet... it's hard to listen to reason when she's holding you in her arms so tenderly, looking into your eyes with such a deep-rooted adoration and desire that border on madness. It's even harder when her lips descend upon your neck, sweet whispers coaxing you to open up, to trust her again...

She knows what she's doing. How she talks to you, how reverently she kisses your chest. You know what she's doing too.

And still... you're falling for it.

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