He could lose himself in this kiss, slowly trailing her cheekbones with is thumbs, inhaling her scent like it was the only air he was capable of breathing in, sensing the warmth of her body against his, feeling her hands running down his chest. It was so perfect and so destructing. Donald could lie to himself, try to pretend, but he knew that he had passed the point of return long time ago, that single point after which he cared way too much for Liz than he had sworn to ever care again. He loved it and he hated it just the same. And her kissing him was the least thing he had expected; the last thing he had dared to think of and still did every other night. Still it had happened; still it was the worst thing that could have happened. All these consequences, disturbances, complications that would come along with this swamped his head as he needed to breathe. This only being a kiss and how much worse it would become if this turned into more than that and how much he wanted more than that.

Right before her hands reached his back, leaving a path of languorous warmth Ressler pulled away and stepped back, turning away his head with his eyes to the ground. Licking his lips he pressed them shut to a thin line and closed his eyes, scolding himself silently for why he had to do that as if he wanted to savor that last taste of hers. She tasted so much more addicting than he had imagined.

Donald's mind started racing like a bloodhound that had been on leash for too long, trying to find a rational explanation for why Liz had kissed him, and one that would make this situation easier, that would kill off his confusion and yearning to continue right there where he had stopped with the cold blade of pain. It would way more merciful and brief than being slowly ripped apart by grief once again. He already was drowning himself in imagining the worst possible effects it would have had on their lives. Their work lives. Him having a personal life, private responsibilities, emotions that would influence him, disturb him in being a right out of the handbook agent. Not that having her around already did that. Yet he never wanted to be anything else than a rational functioning soldier. Nothing else than free from emotional attachments. And Liz was ruining all that. She already made his well mend façade crumble wherever she touched it, having him work hard to fix the holes she left. And she had done so right from the start. Ressler had tried to ignore that he had known this the moment she had seen her, that he had sensed her being a threat to his perfect functioning machinery. And the better he got to know her, the more this threat had grown.

"You should do", he managed to bring out hoarsely, relieved that he had been faster than her to talk, which was kind of unusual and tried to bring back his composure – even if it was just a fake – back on his face, but his hand clenching to the counter betrayed him.

Liz had to catch her breath and sort her mind from being intoxicated and confused, because she felt cold all of the sudden after his feverish touch. She blinked and needed a moment to comprehend his words. They didn't match at all what she had experienced just moments go.

Just like that he was back: Special Agent Donald Ressler, rational and focused, and most definitely being untrue to himself. Just like she had been until he had kissed her back like that. He had swiped her off her feet, rolled her over like a landslide after her merely tossing a marble. And all she could think of for a moment was that she wanted to be breathless again, feel him again, forget everything again. Liz could still taste him on her lips, scent him in her nose, yet the memory of his body pressed against her was already fading, and she could barely handle her own reaction to this. It wasn't disappointment, it was worse than that. It did hurt. Him rejecting her, telling her to leave after this. Because she realized that Tom never had managed to switch off her brain like that. It hit her cold and hard like an iceberg. How odd to compare herself to the Titanic.

The worst thing was that if it things had happened just as she had planned, if she would have felt like she had anticipated, Liz would simply had left. What an irony that she was doing just the same again: trying to act rationally in her private life; just when realization about herself dawned on her once again. Donald's words made so much sense. It dawned to her why he pushed her away. And she knew that she had only three options: doing what he asked her to, doing the opposite, or both, because he was right. Still of all these reactions Liz had outlined for him she hadn't expected the only one that was left now: that he would actually have true feelings for her, more than just attraction. That thought alone made her feel like she was burning up on the inside.

"I'm sorry", she answered, playing the abashed, casting her eyes down and picking up her gloves before heading towards her mantle.
Liz could sense how he tensed, but he didn't say a word, didn't act to hold her back and it made her furious in a way she hadn't expected. How could she expect melting ice with a match, how could she expect controlling that wildfire inside her with an ice cube?

Right there between counter and wardrobe she made a full stop and swung around, clenching her hands into her gloves, feeling the tension of her body up to her aching shoulders.
"No", Liz wanted to throw a thousand insults at Ressler's head, for being such a tenacious, stoic idiot, but whatever had assembled in her mind, it disintegrated into nothing that moment she saw his face again, even though her mouth opened and closed like she was a fish on land.