My throat tightened as uncertainty washed over me.
"I… I'm not sure," I said quietly.
The words felt small, but they were honest.
Lewis didn't rush me. His fingers brushed my cheek, light as if he were afraid to startle me. His eyes stayed on my face, steady, watching every flicker of doubt.
"Would it upset you," he asked softly, "if we had crossed that line?"
There was hesitation in his voice.
That was when I realized something important.
He wasn't testing me.
He was afraid.
Afraid I would resent him. Afraid I would feel taken instead of chosen.
"It would," I admitted.
The moment the answer left my mouth, the warmth in his eyes dimmed. Regret settled over his features, quiet and heavy.
"I'm sorry," he said at once. "I didn't mean to "
I lifted my hand and placed it gently over his lips.
"Listen to me," I said. "When I say I'd feel upset, it's not because of you."
He went still, waiting.
