“And make me feel things I didn't think I could feel again,” I finish quietly.
The air between us crackles with electricity. His eyes drop to my mouth, and I watch his throat work as he swallows.
“Liberty—”
“I know,” I interrupt. “The tension with Justice. Your past. My past. All the reasons this is complicated.”
“It's not just complicated. It’s…”
“Impossible?” I challenge.
“Dangerous.”
I set down my fork. “For who? Me or you?”
He doesn't answer, just drinks more wine and stares at me with those intense hazel eyes that say too little and see too much.
“I'm not fragile,” I tell him. “I survived something terrible, yes. But I'm not broken. I'm not some victim who needs protecting from her own choices.”
He reaches for me, resting his large, warm palm over my hand. “I know that.”
“Good. I don't want you treating me different than anyone else.”
He exhales quietly, never looking away. “That would be impossible; you're incredibly special.”
“I think the same about you.”
We stare at each other across the table, the tension so thick it could sink a ship.
Finally, Spence stands abruptly. “I need to clean up.”
He starts gathering dishes with barely controlled movements, and I watch him retreat into the safety of domestic tasks.
Two can play that game. I stand and follow him to the kitchen, bringing another disk.
“You don't have to help,” he says without looking at me.
“I want to.”
We fall into a rhythm—him washing; me drying. Our hands brush under the soapy water, and every accidental touch feels deliberate.
“This is ridiculous,” I mutter.
“What is?”
“This. Us. Pretending we don't feel what we clearly feel.”
His hands still under the running water. “And what do we feel?”
I set down the dish towel and turn to face him. “You want me to say it first?”
“I already told you what I want.”
“You said you want to fuck me. That's not the same thing.”
He turns, water dripping from his hands.
“What do you want me to say, Liberty? That I've been half-hard since you walked in tonight? That watching you eat dessert made me want to lick chocolate off every inch of you? Or that being alone with you for two days feels like the best and worst thing that's ever happened to me?”
