The surprise at seeing him beside her bed at a quarter past one over her Christmas holidays was one thing, seeing him after so long as the most stoic she ever had was another thing all together. It bit the bud of overwhelming pleasure and warmth at his appearance she felt, and she found herself feeling in its place the sort of trepidation she had when she'd wronged him so horrendously this summer. Only, she did not even have the comfort of knowing what she had done this time.

"You don't want me."

A sigh, perhaps of releif, perhaps of longing, left her lips and she slid the sheet down from her form. His further words on departing were ignored when she moved her legs over the side of the bed, her hand tugging down the silk material when it rose high along her thighs. Pausing as she swallowed, knowing to trivialize this was to trivialize his emotions, she finally drew her gaze to his and whispered, "You couldn't be more wrong. You couldn't."

Reaching a hand out to touch his face when he knelt beside her to pick up the glass, she paused before she did so and dropped her gaze. Her throat, already dry, left her wishing she hadn't spilled the water when the following murmur fell from her lips, her eyes finding his own.

"I've needed nothing more than to see you. I promise you this."