MISTAKEN
His hands came up, cupping her face, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones.
"I don't know what I'm doing," he breathed, his voice ragged.
"Neither do I," Anna admitted, leaning into his touch.
Then, he kissed her. It wasn't a demanding, passionate kiss like the one they'd previously shared at his apartment, but a soft, almost reverent press of lips. It was a kiss of Awe—a wonder that she was still there, a fearful respect for the power she held over his shattered peace.
When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers. "This... this isn't fake, Ann. The engagement is a lie, but this feeling..." He searched for the word, unable to find one big enough.
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