I moved.
The floorboards creaked. She spun in the chair, eyes wide, defensive instinct kicking in before she recognized me.
She looked at my chest, then lower, to where the towel hung on my hips.
Color flooded her neck. Fast. Visible.
“Hey.” The word was barely a sound.
She turned back to the screen quickly, fingers hovering over the keys. “I... uh. I made some progress. Maybe. Well, not progress exactly, but I ruled out a lot of things that aren’t the problem.”
Rambling. Nervous.
I walked to the chair beside her. Pulled it close.
My thigh brushed the blanket covering her leg as I sat. The contact was muffled by layers of wool and down, but I felt the static charge of it.
I placed the packet of crackers we’d bought at the bus station on the desk. Pushed them toward her.
She stared at the foil wrapper.
“Thanks. I forgot to eat.”
She didn’t look at me. Her fingers twisted together in her lap.
The silence stretched. It wasn’t the comfortable quiet of the bath or the heavy weight of the alley. This was jagged. Unsure.
We had crossed a line. Smashed through it, actually. And now she didn’t know where to stand.
I hated it.
I hated that she was retreating behind walls I had just torn down.
I reached out. My hand covered hers where they knotted in her lap.
She flinched, then stilled.
Gold and brown flecked with exhaustion and a wariness that hadn’t been there two hours ago.
“So.” Her voice was overly bright, laced with that sharp edge she used as armor. “That happened. The... earlier thing. We should probably...”
She stopped. Took a breath. Tried again.
“It was a stress response. Adrenaline dump. Perfectly normal physiological reaction to... everything.” A brittle laugh. “We don’t have to make it a thing. We can focus on the...”
Shut up, Clare.
I moved before the thought fully formed.
My hands came up, cupping her face. My palms were rough against her skin, callused and scarred, instruments of violence holding something precious.
She froze mid-sentence.
I didn’t give her time to rebuild the barrier. I leaned in and silenced her.
I didn’t kiss her gently. I didn’t ask for permission this time. I claimed.
My mouth slanted over hers, hungry and absolute. I tasted the coffee she hadn’t had, the words she was trying to hide behind. I swept my tongue inside, demanding a response.
