She hated this, but more than the circumstance, she hated herself. She wanted nothing more than take greedily every bit of affection, every iota of desire he was offering her, and yet she couldn't, not without guilt overwhelming her. Not without hating herself for hurting him inevitably again.

When he confessed words that she had only heard from him once before, and in a state where they did not filter through, she perceptibly stilled. She had known this, perhaps, on some molecular level, but she had never so much as considered that he would voice them then. Her eyes slid shut as she let herself, selfishly, bask in the feel of that confession before she was tugging away from it.

"Things are so much easier when we don't talk," she lamented in a sigh, her gaze dropping away from his own. Gently stepping back from his arms, she ran a hand through her hair, her fingers pressing against her temple as she thought. She needed to know how she was going to go about this, and she wasn't at all certain that she had the courage to even do so.

"You don't love me," she said, her tone insistent as she looked up at him. "You think you do- I know that, but you don't. Don't argue, please, just leave it be."

Lifting her hand to his lips, her thumb slid against the lower one, her eyes lifting finally to his own. She could be mesmerized by the way he looked at her, and she could not help herself but to whisper, "Do you know how mad you'd make me just by watching me? When you thought I didn't know.. I could feel you."