Oh.

He's flushed, his breathing a little hard, and my heart's beating a cheerfully quick pace too, but I sure as anything do a double take, a bit, when he does respond.

He didn't...hear me?

I have to say it again? Once was scary enough!

Distressed, I pull him close, framing his face with both my hands; I kiss him again, a little more firmly, but keeping it as brief as I can force myself to bear, my lips lingering on his with delicate friction and fluttering heat.

When I pull back again, I leave my hands where they are, framing his jaw, fingertips tracing his hairline. He's so small, in every way except for his heart. He's got the heart of a lion, and I so love to watch him leap up tall and roar.

"I, um. I said I love you," I repeat myself, lamely I think, but I have to trail off at the end because I want to use his name in a way I haven't yet been given permission to do. And I may play about with nicknames and dropping honorifics to tease, but this...is different, and I don't want to call this man by his surname ever again.

But that will be his decision to make.