Even now, even here, she can't resist the lure of touch, and she finds herself leaning into his hand. Shame brings color back to her cheeks and she watches silently as he tries to find the words, swallowing against the rock in her throat. Her squeeze shut while he shakes his head. He's given up. Loneliness swells and breaks over her.

And then his lips are on hers.

Tear-spiked lashes spring up. What...? Before she can quite process what's happening, he's pulled away, and she's left staring and scrambling to pick up what he's saying. It's mad. It's... Doesn't he understand what she'd said? No. He does. And... and he doesn't care.

That brilliant, flickering something in her stomach twists and flares, piercingly bright and oh so painful, and she recognizes it. Hope. Could he... could he really want to risk this? Even after all she's done? After all he's been through? She can hardly give it credence.

She begins to move to reciprocate just a second too late to join the second kiss, and she turns it into biting her lip, blinking at him in wonder. Realizing she's staring, she ducks her head and brushes disbelieving fingers over her lips. "You... you really mean that. Don't you." It's dumb, and it's selfish, but she has to be sure.