Warning: Smut!
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Jax lowers his head now too, leaning against hers, forehead to forehead, nose to nose. The sexual tension between the former lovers is suddenly so thick, you could cut it with a knife. Both their chests are heaving as if they'd just run a mile. He tilts his head a bit to the side, leaning in closer, and just when his lips are about to brush against hers, Tara pulls her head back, yet still avoiding his gaze when she begs out loud. "Please, ... don't."
The scared sound of her voice breaks his heart. The sudden longing to hold her instead of kissing her doesn't diminish his desire for her, but it merely gets temporarily overshadowed by his need of wanting to protect and comfort her. He simply hates that she's so terrified by his advances, but deep down he can't really blame her.
So his hands lose their tight grip on her waist and move up, wrapping around the expanse of her back in a hug, pulling her further into him instead and gently tucking her head under his chin.
However, Tara's still on guard, that's painfully obvious to him with the way she keeps her palms flat against his chest as if she's still trying to decide whether to push him away or not. But in the end, she doesn't resist and she remains frozen in his tight embrace for a long moment.
Jax interrupts the quiet when he wants to know. "Does it still hurt?"
My head ... or my heart?
Tara wonders how to answer that for a second, but in reality, she knows what he means, knows what he's asking. The scar itself doesn't hurt, not physically, not anymore, but the emotional pain is a whole other story.
"No, not anymore." She whispers into his chest, hoping the answer will placate him enough to not push this further. She doesn't want to talk about the scar or the attack on her yet again. Doesn't want to think or theorize about the who and why either.
It is pointless all the same because she still doesn't remember anything.
Another long minute in his arms, and she can feel his fingertips playing with the strands of her hair on her back. Standing here like this with him in the quietness of the night, she could almost forget everything that had happened between them, almost forget everything around them. Temporarily allowing herself to get lost in the moment and being brought back in her mind again to a simpler time, a time when they still truly trusted each other, long before they had broken each other's hearts. Wishful thinking ... It is too late!
"I need you to give me another chance." He suddenly whispers his request against her ear and his left hand reaches for her right one that's still flattened against his chest, holding it in place over his beating heart. "You gotta let me in ... at least enough so I can try to fix this."
Tara nuzzles against him for a second, contemplating his words over in her mind, before she has finally gathered enough strength and willpower to look up into his pleading blue eyes. She needs to get through to him, the sooner the better. "I don't think there's anything left to fix, Jackson." She admits her true feelings and denies him any hope in the matter. She's sort of in awe of herself, doesn't know where she's found the strength to stand up to him in all his perfection, but she's silently thanking God that she has.
Her words and stern look combined with her use of his given name feel like a sucker punch to the gut, mostly because he knows she only ever calls him Jackson If she is trying to drive home a point. And the heartbreaking point she is driving home right now is their unsalvageable marriage.
"I know you've heard that saying about insanity. The one about doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results."
He nods his head, but looks confused back at her for a second, clearly not understanding what she's getting at.
"I'm done being insane, Jax." She says with her head held high again, and somehow she finds the strength to pull her hand out from under his, twist out of his strong arm that's still wrapped around her, and pushes past him, heading for the door as if this is all there is left to say on the matter of their relationship.
"Tara, wait." Jax turns and reaches for her, catching her by her hand right before she can walk out of the room. "I promise ..." The words die down on his lips.
The tug on her hand makes her stop and she looks over her shoulder back at him, giving him a quizzical look, a silent challenge to come up with a promise he hasn't made in the past and broken just the same. The list is short.
"I promise this time will be different." He quickly adds the remaining words, thinking that they'll evoke some kind of hope in her. He's wrong.
Tara's still looking back at him, and she's quite proud of herself that so far she's been able to fight back the tears. "It starts out different, but it always ends the same." She replies and by the look on his face, it's clear to see that that is not what he wanted to hear at all.
He steps closer to her again, still holding onto her hand and she gives him the courtesy of turning fully toward him.
He's well aware that this is not only her way of giving him another chance to speak, but she's also giving him her undivided attention, and he knows to better make it count. "I know that you truly think this is it for us. You said last night that we're broken beyond repair and maybe you really believe that there's no coming back from the things we've done, but ... but what if you're wrong, Babe?"
He steps even closer now, stopping right in front of her, reaching for her other hand as he's holding her steely gaze. "We've been here before, roles reversed and you were the one who said that it makes us better human beings when we're with the person we're supposed to be with."
"Don't do that." She angrily pulls her hands out of his, considering this a low blow, shaking her head at him in disbelief, her eyes suddenly shooting daggers at him. "You don't get to use my own words against me."
"It's the damn truth though." He replies solemnly, without skipping a beat. "You know it was the truth back then and it still is now."
Tara folds her arms in front of her, shaking her head again. "Back then I was still naive enough to think that our love could pull us through, come what may. I don't believe that anymore, Jax." She lies, sort of. Somewhere deep down she still does hang onto that hope that true love can heal all wounds, but the problem is that she is no longer willing to put that theory to the test. She just can't -won't- put her heart and soul through all that again, just to be presented with yet another obstacle, another lie or betrayal, or another's warm body in his bed with him.
He's wracking his brain on how to reply to that. Had he really broken her to the point that she had not an ounce of hope left for them? He doesn't want that to be true, refuses to let that be true.
"I still believe it!" He blurts out, a strange desperate tone to his voice that not only surprises her but himself as well. "You're the one, Tara. You always have been and God fucking knows you always will be. Just like I'm the one for you. We've done all this shit before. We let this cruel world break us apart, and come between us. And it doesn't matter how many times we've tried to walk away from each other, or tried to make it work with someone else, in the end, it always comes back to this, back to us ... we always come back to each other."
She's trying her best to fight back the onslaught of emotions his words evoke in her. She wants to hate this optimistic side of his, wants to debunk every word of love he's spewing at her, but for a moment her heart betrays her and she fails miserably. A moment passes and she can see the hope in his baby-blue eyes as they bore into hers, clearly searching for a sign that she feels the same way.
She shakes her head at him, steeling herself against the unwelcome feelings trying to weasel their way back into her heart, because isn't this where all their problems stem from? That he's arrogant enough to use her love for him to his advantage? That he truly thinks no matter how badly he fucks up, she'll eventually come back and forgive him?
She can't do this anymore. She won't do this anymore. Someone's heart won't make it out of here unscathed tonight. His or hers! She doesn't want it to be hers again.
She knows her heart can't take it, not again. She's done being his emotional punching bag. Simply done letting her irrational feelings for him rule over what she knows in her head, and somehow she has to make him see it too.
"Maybe I was wrong, and we were never supposed to be together and that's why we were never able to make it work." She replies bitterly and she can see the disbelief in his eyes at her words. A twinge of regret runs through her as if her ugly words are soiling Thomas' existence, yet she won't back down now. Not now when she finally feels like she has the upper hand. "I think you were right all along when you said I should've gone back to Chicago. The Kohn thing should've been the end!"
She's met with nothing but a stunt silence from him as he runs both his hands across his weary face, and with a pang in her heart, Tara wonders if this will finally be the end.
She feels like she won the fight, but lost the war, because it doesn't feel like a victory at all. No cheers or applause here for her. It feels like the end of their marriage!
She watches him turn away from her, still hiding his face in his hands and the thought that he might be crying almost makes her want to take back all the ugly things she's said. But she can't bring herself to do that. She won't apologize, won't back down ... she's come too far to let him break her now.
Just when she's about to open her mouth to let him know that she'll head to bed now, he spins back around on her, and the words never make it past her lips when she sees his red-rimmed eyes flashing almost angrily at her.
Her words to him from all those months ago come to the forefront of his mind. 'I have sacrificed everything for you!'
He had thought that he could understand the pain and sorrow she must've felt that day, alone and broken at the mercy of him and the Club, but now that he finds himself standing in her shoes, pondering over everything he's sacrificed for her now, the truth behind those words shatter him to the very core and nearly cripple him.
"I did everything you wanted me to do. Everything you asked." He says with accusation and an uncharacteristic shaky tone to his voice.
The Club, Charming, Gemma -all gone! For you!
The words 'too little too late' come to her mind, but they seem mean and ugly and she can't bring herself to be that cruel to say them out loud, no matter how true they are.
So she contemplates his words to her and quickly realizes the lie in them. "That's not true!"
"I left SAMCRO! For you!" He doesn't miss a beat, his eyes trained on her face, daring her to argue that to be a lie.
"I asked you to leave with me four months ago. I practically begged you to come with us, Jax." Tara folds her arms in front of her. "But when push comes to shove, it always ends the same. You'll always choose the Club over me and the boys."
He shakes his head at that, even though he knows deep down there's some truth to what she's saying, but not this time. She's wrong this time, but she'll never know that. "I'm here now." He quips back.
She had to understand the tough choices he's had to make. There had to be a way to make her see that he would've come with her if he'd seen any other way, without burdening her with the truth, so he tells her a partial lie instead. "I'm sorry I couldn't leave with you. I wish I could have, but you have to understand, Babe ... the Club needed me."
"I needed you!" She shouts back at him, a finger poking at her own sternum for a moment. Unable to keep the hurt and pain contained any longer, tears begin to well up in her eyes. "I needed you!" She repeats again, this time more quiet and calm, looking away now and wiping at the tears in her eyes.
He's also running his hands over his face, the truth behind those three words almost destroying his resolve to keep fighting her on this. Maybe she is right, maybe they should just try to be the best parents they could be and give each other's hearts a chance to heal.
He sighs and lifts his head to look at her, the apology already on his tongue when he notices the small figure donning monster truck pajamas appear in the doorframe behind Tara.
"Are you fighting?" Abel asks, his voice sleepy, and the bright lighting makes him squint as his eyes seem to travel back and forth between his father and his mother.
Tara turns away for just a moment, frantically wiping the tears away, not wanting to let Abel see her like this before she turns back toward him.
"No, baby, we were just talking." Her voice is soft, warm, and soothing, so different sounding than the angry and hurt tone in her voice from mere seconds ago, when she'd been shouting at her husband. Tara runs her hand through Abel's blond hair, and can't help but wonder just how much he might've heard. She hates this!
"We didn't mean to wake you up, buddy," Jax adds to further reassure him, and steps closer to them both, running his own hand over Abel's blond strands.
"Is it morning yet?" He asks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, the brightness of the room still bothering him.
"No, honey." Tara practically coos and proceeds to scoop their son up into her arms. "It's the middle of the night. It's still dark outside."
"Let's get you back to bed." She says, but turns toward Jax with Abel in her arms. "Give your Daddy a goodnight kiss." Further trying to appear in good spirits and conceal the fact that they were in fact fighting.
Jax leans in and Abel puckers up in the exaggerated way he often does and kisses his father on the cheek.
"Goodnight, Abel." Jax runs his hand through the boy's hair once more, before Tara turns and carries their son back to his bedroom, a sleepy Abel waving back at him over her shoulder.
Jax follows right behind them though, but stops and watches from the door frame as Tara tucks their oldest back into bed and kisses his forehead. The sight strengthened the resolve he'd almost lost mere minutes ago. This is what I'm fighting for.
He steps back and out of the way when she walks back out and quietly closes their bedroom door behind her, trying her best to not wake Thomas up too, because the youngest Teller wouldn't go back to bed this easily.
They both share a rueful glance in the hallway, neither of them likes the idea of Abel having overheard their argument.
He wishes momentarily he could call for a time-out, take a knee, give himself a moment to reassess, and actually come up with a thought-out plan, because so far nothing he's said to her seems to make a difference. But he knows he doesn't have that luxury, and doesn't have a moment to spare. Not at three o'clock in the morning.
He'll have to think on his feet and hope he doesn't fuck this up any more than he already has.
Jax nods in the direction of the living room, gesturing with his hand for her to go first and she wordlessly complies, walking ahead of him.
Tara doesn't stop in the living room though and instead continues on to the kitchen. Since she is expecting their heated discussion to continue any minute now, she wants to put as many walls as possible between the boys' room and them this time around.
"That felt shitty." She almost whispers, and leans back against the kitchen counter.
"I know." He agrees, taking a seat in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, and runs a hand over his face, trying to figure out how or where to even start this conversation yet again.
"I'm not willing -" He starts, but stops abruptly, correcting his own words. "I just can't give up on us, Tara. I won't. Not now." He looks up at her with newfound determination in his eyes reflecting back at her. "There is nothing you can say or do that will make me walk away. I'm here, Babe, and I'm not going anywhere."
Tara looks away and lets out a humorless chuckle at the irony of his timing. It is sad, really. In the past, she'd spent countless nights wishing and hoping that he'd fight for her the way he is now. Saying the words he's just said. And now that he is here, doing just that, she's too damaged, too broken inside to allow him to get that close to her again.
From this point forward it's a matter of self-preservation ... she has to make a clean break, no more blurred lines about what they are to each other, if not for her own sake, then for the sake of their children.
Jax watches her expectantly from his seat just a few feet away. "Say something, please." He begs when she still remains silent after a minute.
"What do you want me to say?" She shrugs her shoulders in an annoyed kind of way. "I mean, everything I've been saying to you since you got here Friday afternoon just seems to go in one ear and comes right back out the other. It's obvious you haven't listened to a damn thing I've said." She sighs in frustration and thinks about her next words for a second.
"I've been in love with you for so long." Her sad eyes meet his across the room, and she shakes her head at herself at the memories. "Even when I left for college, and then Chicago, I never really stopped." Her chin quivers for a second, and a tear trickles down her cheek, but she wipes it away as quickly as it appears.
"And then I came back to Charming, and even after what we did to Kohn, for a while it felt right, you know." She takes a deep shaky breath. "But I honestly don't remember what it feels like to not love you, to not be in love with you. There's just no remnants of the girl I was before I fell for you, but I think I miss her."
Jax feels slightly confused, not entirely sure what she's trying to tell him, but feels the sudden need to clarify that he feels the same way about her. "I've never stopped loving you either. You know that." He adds for good measure.
"So why are you making this so difficult?" He dares to throw the question at her. "After all this time, all the years spent apart, here we are still in love. Still crazy about each other." His heart is pounding in his chest and all he wants to do is throw her over his shoulder, carry her to her bedroom, and show her until the sun comes up just how much he means every goddamn word.
He watches her take another deep breath before taking the few steps toward him, and for a fraction of a second he wonders if she's sharing his idea. Wonders if she's coming to take him by the hand and pull him along into her bedroom with her.
But before he can even finish that thought she settles in the chair right across from him instead, putting an end to his wishful thinking.
Their eyes meet across the kitchen table, and he can see her swallow hard before she opens her lips to talk. "I'm scared. You didn't just break my heart, Jax, you shattered it into a million pieces, ... and now you show up here as if nothing ever happened. Asking me to let you take another swing at it, when I'm still trying to put it back together, still trying to repair the damage you've done to it the last time around."
He gets it.
He doesn't like it, but at least he gets it now. The logic behind her unwavering resistance against the idea of picking up where they'd left off, in the parking lot of the motel. It finally makes sense to him, but that doesn't mean her words aren't breaking his heart as well.
He suddenly can't help but think about the frown on her face when he'd told Abel that he was going to stay, and the words jumbled from his tongue past his lips before that little voice inside his head could stop him. "Do you even want me here?" He's not even sure he really wants to hear the truth, but that thought follows a little too late.
His question catches Tara off guard, but she recovers instantaneously. "Of course." She says, before she adds. "The boys are -"
"I'm not asking about the boys." He cuts her off. "I'm asking about you and me. Do you want me here?"
Tara swallows the lump in her throat and stares back at him as the seconds tick by, while she's thinking about how to answer him.
And he'd be lying if he said that the fact that she has to think about it at all, doesn't crush his spirits. He feels a sudden rage building inside of him, feeling like a dumbass to have thought this is what she wanted, but before he can even say anything she finally speaks up.
"And if I say no, you'll just run back to Charming?" She dares to spout a question of her own back at him instead of an answer.
He knows he should probably be offended by her accusation and the way she halfheartedly disguised it as a question, but there's a hint of truth in it.
He loves his sons, he truly does, and he's missed them, but they're not why he's here. Abel and Thomas were not the deciding factors that tipped the scale when he weighed his decision to leave SAMCRO or not.
She was!
And if she doesn't want him, then he's not really sure what he's going to do.
He knows just how pathetic he sounds when he reaches across the table and grabs a hold of both her hands. Not gentle or sweet, but with a hard demanding tug. "Then give me a reason not to." Tell me to stay!
"The boys -" She tries to start again and again he cuts her off just like before.
"The boys have you. They sure as shit don't need me." He quips back, and he knows his words aren't going to win him any father-of-the-year awards any time soon.
"That's not true." She's just as quick in her rebuttal. "If anyone knows how important it is to have both parents in their life, it's you and me."
He knows there's truth in those words as well, but he'll be damned to admit defeat already.
A long moment passes between them, with neither of them saying a word.
And he hates it, hates the thought that this is how it all could possibly end. He's equal parts furious and confused. He wishes she would've just lied to him, could've lied and just said 'Yes, I want you here', but she didn't, and even though he loves her so much, right now he hates her for not fighting for them.
He broods and tries to figure out where to channel all the anger that's coursing through his veins, knowing full well that yelling and shouting at her won't really solve anything at all.
It suddenly becomes crystal clear to him. This wasn't about them, this is all about him, the other guy. The one she's screwing.
The words that come out of his mouth then are hurtful and mean and he doesn't possess the willingness to even try to censor them. "So you just want me here for the boys. Want me to help you raise them, and pick them up from the babysitter if you're working late, or if you're out on a date with your new man." He shoots her a look of disgust before he adds. "Want me here watching them while you're fucking your way through the town."
Tara pulls her hand out of his grip and lunges at him across the table at such a speed, he never even saw it coming. The slap echoes in the room and he can instantly feel the welt the size of her hand form and pulse across his cheek.
She's standing now, glowering and towering over him for a brief moment until he stands up too.
"You -" She raises her voice, but then catches herself, pauses, and if looks could kill he would have already dropped dead to the floor. Her chest is heaving, and she can barely contain the venom in her voice when she starts again, more quietly this time. "You chose SAMCRO, ... and you chose her. I'm not gonna apologize for how I chose to repair what you broke. So you don't get to call me a whore!"
She starts to head for the door, but Jax steps in her way, blocking her only way out, and she takes a step back again as if she can't stand to be this close to him right now.
His left cheek feels like it's on fire, and he raises his hand up to his face, running his fingers over the damage. An even deeper sting ensues at his own touch.
It's not like it was a right hook or anything, but she sure as shit had laid it on him. And as if the slap has helped clear some of the different noises in his mind, he realizes he had this one coming. He knows he shouldn't have said that.
"Get out of my way, Jax." She demands, and folds her arms again in the way she often does, signaling that her guard is up. She's not sorry. "We're done here."
But Jax doesn't miss a beat and with just one long stride he's on her, like a moth to the flame. His lips crush onto hers with such force that she nearly stumbles backward, losing her footing and no doubt would have fallen had he not grabbed her and pulled her hard against him instead.
A sudden pain shoots through his bottom lip and he pulls back, a look of disbelief in his eyes when he sees her smirking back at him. His hand reaches up, touching his lip and he recognizes the red hot substance on the tip of his fingers, even before he swipes his tongue across and tastes the copper. She fucking bit me!
He runs his tongue over the small wound again, keeping the blood from trickling down his beard. If her love bite was supposed to deter him, no such luck, because it seems to clearly have the opposite effect.
"You wanna play rough, Babe?" He asks through gritted teeth, before his lips once more crush powerfully onto hers.
But that's where that thought already stops, because he won't bite her back hard enough to draw blood, and he would never hit her either.
So the only thing he can think of to do is rip her black button-down shirt open with such vigor, that every button pops off, flying every which way across the kitchen floor.
She must've liked that because she finally allows him entrance to her mouth, and he's more than pleased with the way she gasps when his hands tugs her shirt back. He begins to knead her beautiful breasts through the lacy fabric of her bra, his thumbs skillfully teasing her already hardened nipples, causing her to moan against his mouth.
They kiss deeply, tongues dueling for dominance, the metallic taste of blood an odd aphrodisiac.
Jax wraps his hands around the curve of her ass, picks her up with ease, and hoists her onto the edge of the kitchen table right beside them. Nudging her thighs apart so he could wedge between them, grinding against her and being instantly rewarded with yet another moan of approval from her.
Meanwhile, she's made quick work on the buttons of his flannel shirt, and he drops his hands to his side, straightening his arms to make it easier for her as she's pushing the garment past his broad shoulders and off of him.
The speed with which his hands unbutton and unzip her jeans does not nearly reflect the pressing urgency he feels to finally have her. To be inside of her. Again.
His right hand glides inside her jeans, finding her hot, moist, and ready for him.
His fingers skillfully push the already soaked fabric of her panties aside, allowing him to glide said fingers along her wet swollen folds in search of the little nub. God, I want you so bad!
But just as he begins to tease her pleasure point, he can sense her tensing up beneath his hands.
Something happened, there was a shift and she pulls away from his kiss, lowering her head and avoiding his confused look. He can literally feel her whole body freeze up and her hands still, clutching the bottom hem of his white t-shirt, no longer exploring beneath it.
"I can't do this." She says, and then has the audacity to actually look up at him.
Considering he's knuckle deep inside her right now, he'd like to shrug her words off as nothing but a sick and cruel joke, a way to get back at him for spouting those hate filled words at her just moments ago. But the look in her moistened eyes tells him that she's serious.
Fuck it!
He decides to ignore her, crushing down on her in a fiery kiss and pumping the full length of two fingers as deeply into her as the awkward angle of his wrist allows, grunting his desire for her into her mouth.
She doesn't expect him to do that and finds herself helpless to stop the guttural moan that escapes her lips, then flushing with embarrassment that such a sound could come from her.
She regains her train of thought though, pulls her lips away from his again, and pushes hard against his chest, causing him to stumble back now, his hand involuntarily slipping from within her, and from her jeans.
"I mean it, Jax, you have to stop. I don't want this ... I can't do this."
He looks at her confused, he doesn't understand, but before he can ask her what he did wrong, before the words 'what happened' can even make it past his bloodied swollen lips, she answers the unspoken question for him.
With tears in her eyes, and a quivering chin she explains. "I can't do to him what you did to me." Further driving home the point that she's the good guy here and he's the piece of shit.
It feels like another slap to the face for him, and he stands there dumbfounded, staring back at her when the realization hits him that she actually has real feelings for that other guy!
"I'm sorry." She says quietly, her sad eyes meeting his and her words snap him out of his stupor.
He steps back toward her and pulls her shirt closed over her chest, but his fingers itch to touch her just one more time. He doesn't though. "I'm sorry too." He says, but unlike her, he's not sorry for what happened just now, he's sorry for the pain he's caused her ... for cheating. Jesus Christ, he'd give just about anything to take it back, to undo it.
He's distraught, heartbroken himself, but he won't let it show. His pride takes over. So does the anger, because ... fuck ... she's still his wife. Tara is his!
He bends down at the waist, picks up his flannel shirt off of the floor, and pats the chest pocket, checking if his pack of cigarettes is still in there.
With his flannel shirt in one hand, he turns back toward her and cups her chin with his other free hand. Before she has time to react he presses his lips hard against hers one last time, then he pulls away just a little, their faces so close that their noses almost touch when he stares back into her red-rimmed eyes. "It's time to break up with him, Babe."
He then turns on his heels and walks away, straight out the front door without looking back and when the door falls shut behind him, she falls back onto the kitchen table and sighs, letting out the breath that caught in her throat the moment he cupped her chin.
X
Jax's fingers shake when he's trying to light his cigarette.
He had to get the hell out of there, away from her before he'd end up doing something she didn't want him to. Something they'd both end up regretting.
He shakes his head at himself, wondering how things got so twisted and so fucked up between them, but deep down inside he knows he's the one to blame.
His thoughts are all over the place ... nothing's adding up inside his head. He's burdened with regret. Not in the way he'd kissed or touched her, but ignoring her pleas to take pity on her heart.
'I'm still trying to put it back together, still trying to repair the damage you've done to it the last time around.'
He can practically hear her shaky voice inside his head the way she'd said it.
And he'd stomped right through her guard, not only taking a swing at her heart, but he'd knocked the damn thing clear out of the park. A fucking home run!
That, he regrets!
He takes another long drag, vowing to himself he'd figure out a way to fix it.
He knows it's wrong, but he can't resist the urge and raises his right hand up to his nose, closing his eyes when his nostrils fill with the scent of her. She always smelled like perfection. She still does.
"Jesus Christ." He mutters to himself at his own action, shakes his head, but unable to keep the smile from appearing on his face.
Who the fuck was he kidding? She had him so whipped.
Even if she told him straight to his face that she didn't want him here, he wasn't going anywhere. No way, no how.
He brings his fingers up to his nose and takes yet another whiff, like a junkie, unable to get enough.
She wanted him just as bad though. That's what this smell represents, her wanting him!
She might not have said it out loud, but he considers the fact that she'd let it get this far between them, as her way of giving him a reason to stay.
X
Author's Note: Please review and let me know what you think. Thanks.