There it was. He found himself choking on all the words he wanted to say. Come back. I love you. Call off sick. Don't do this. There were plenty of things he could say, plenty of things that he was probably well within his right to say after their previous evening. Instead, he did the next best sensible thing he could imagine and leaned down to press a tender kiss to her lips, in stark contrast from the rough, desperate ones they'd shared the previous evening. He looked at her, taking in the sight of her. He didn't know what she was thinking or what she planned on doing, but even after taking her virtue he couldn't imagine a future where she came back to him after leaving. He wasn't easy enough—which, given their current predicament, he might have laughed at if not for the dread that currently consumed him.

"Choose me," he said in a quiet voice, one last ditch effort for her heart. "Choose me and I'm yours." If she said no, he'd let her go. He didn't have much choice at this point, no time left to convince her otherwise. He'd opened himself up to her, made a fool of himself last night with the tears and emotions he'd let run wild. Hell, he'd had sex with her, right here, on this couch—a far cry from his usual goings, but unsurprising when he looked back on it. If she didn't think he really loved her now, he didn't know what else he could do.

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