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She finally understands what she's been feeling for the last half dozen weeks by the sure contrast with her satisfaction. It's taken him a minute or two to get his heart beat back down to match his lungs which caught up so quickly. And the steady, pulse under her ear counted down her own euphoria. His hands are rough on her back, still tucked up under her shirt where he gripped her and held her to him. She should feel sticky and gross for all the sweat that's rubbed off between them, but it's like being bathed in his promises, his trust. And trust had everything to do with what just happened. She's not a fool, touch isn't something he gives with abandon.
.
"He'll figure it out." She dismissed, carefully putting her hand into his and letting him lead the way down the street. She was painfully aware of the way her smile pinched her cheeks tightly, Tobias looked a little more reserved, but he was still smirking.
.
She didn't say anything, she didn't even move until he pulled the sheet up to cover her. She nodded that she was okay and worried her bottom lip. He was saturated with concern, then guilt – the one person he wouldn't hurt looked shattered. He couldn't stay and look at her processing what he'd done, but sliding on his shorts on the way to the bathroom sealed her dillusions into fact.
.
He's not going to let her get away with it. Its really his fault since he let her carry on in this semi-selfless way; sparing his feelings, bending to what he wants. But what he wants is a little eye contact and a lot less guilt over how she shrinks when she thinks he's disappointed. He's not. He hasn't been, but he has liked the way she panders to him, shows nothing but deference. And its kept him up. He scoops her up from where she huddles and places her on his lap. Hard work starts with admitting his own wrongs.