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"And so the lion fell in love with the lamb...," I whispered.
His eyes were so open and accessible for one second, and then he flushed again and looked down. He steadied his breath for a moment, and his impish smile returned.
"What a stupid lamb," he teased, stretching out the joke.
"What a sick, masochistic lion," I countered. I wasn't sure that was a true statement, though.
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In one light, yes, I was deliberately causing myself unnecessary pain and enjoying it, the textbook definition of masochism. But the pain was the price... and the reward was so much more than the pain. Really, the price was negligible. I would pay it ten times over.
"Why..?" he murmured, hesitant.
I smiled at him, eager to know his mind. " Yes?" A hint of the forehead crease began to form.
"Tell me why you ran from me before."
His words hit me physically, lodging in the pit of my stomach. I couldn't understand why he would want to rehash a moment so loathsome.
"You know why."
He shook his head, and his brows pulled down.
"No, I mean, exactly what did I do wrong?" He spoke intently, serious now. "I'll have to be on my guard, you see, so I better start learning what I shouldn't do. This, for example." He stroked his fingertips slowly up the back of my hand to my wrist, leaving a trail of painless fire. "This seems to be alright." How like him to take the responsibility on himself.
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