He laughs. It's not a surprise - even hearing it isn't a surprise - but there's still a startled note to the sound, like he might have managed to forget, just for a moment, that she might still find him desirable. Even after he's been an an arsehole to her, even knowing that she's afraid of just what depths might exist in both their hearts, she still wants him.

He touches her cheek, the backs of his fingers a whisper against her skin. It's not as simple as debauching themselves and moving on, he's certain of that, but it's starting to look less impossible. His blood's threatening to pound harder in his chest, faint color riding to his cheeks. "I think that approach might make all of this a lot more complicated. Are you...that is, can you live with that? Knowing what you do about my feelings?"

Do I have to pretend I don't love you in order for this to work? Because even if the idea of any of this working feels like a long shot, it's guaranteed to fail if the answer is yes.