I let the silence stretch. Let her feel the heat of my body, the insistent throb only inches from her hip now. Let her wrestle with the cocktail of guilt, shame, responsibility… and something hotter she was trying desperately not to name.
After a long moment, she swallowed hard.
"I… I didn't mean to…" she whispered. "I just wanted to help. I didn't think—"
"I know," I cut in softly. "But you are helping. More than you know."
Her lashes fluttered. She bit her lower lip—hard enough that the skin blanched white for a second.
"Do you… need me to… do something?" The question came out so small, so reluctant, I almost didn't catch it.
I turned my head slowly.
Yuko's face was incandescent—deep crimson spreading from her cheeks down her throat, the blush so intense it looked almost painful under the unforgiving fluorescent light.
