She closed her eyes, his ice-cold hands, unfeeling, burned through the blouse. She could feel it. The attraction. Inescapable, inexplicable, it was there. The pleasure she felt upon touching him was wrong, but she couldn't deprive herself of it.

Her heart beat faster. She knows that if she left, he couldn't chase after her. She knows leaving is right. Yet the cold touch of his humanoid hands, that purely gentle touch that so wordlessly is begging her to stay... She can't breathe. She can't think straight every time he moves his hands even a tenth of an inch.

She hears a low buzz and knows that is his heart. She knows it doesn't beat like hers, it doesn't skip a beat every time she moves her hand over his, it doesn't get tired and it doesn't stop. But she also knows that he feels as if his buzzing heart would be doing all of those.

Because he loves her.

Because she wants him to love her.