The doorway swallowed me up as I stepped inside, shutting it carefully behind me. The place smelled faintly of vanilla and fresh laundry—clean, soft, the opposite of the cigarette haze I usually carried around. My shoes clacked lightly against the polished wooden floor as I followed her into the apartment.
Delilah didn't say much, just walked ahead with that calm, effortless sway in her hips. It was impossible not to notice how her ass moved under those thin house shorts—too damn perfect, too damn deliberate. I dragged my eyes back up, forcing myself to focus on anything else.
