The kiss tasted of love and hunger, sorrow and loss, fear, wonder, rightness. They broke it when she had to breathe and stood forehead to forehead; holding each other; not thinking; just being.
"Buffy." He'd whispered it. A mistake. She tensed for battle. Why couldn't he keep his mouth shut? Love's bitch always, that's why. She pushed back against his arms. He dropped them, let her go. Felt torn in half, already missing her curves against his lines. Why had he stayed away from her?
She looked up at his face, still the same. Her fist found his nose. "Why?"