She wouldn't know how. It was an answer that did not immediately quell his fears about why she was asking him to kiss her, or how she would respond if he did, but it did give him pause, and with the amount of overthinking he was doing it did not take him long to conclude that she was probably not going to yell or laugh at him for trying. Her answer spoke to her inexperience, and inexperienced women were unlikely to use kissing as a means to mess with a man—and really, with her cheeks so pink and her body language that suggested a nervous sort of sincerity, he was beginning to believe she meant it.

"That's okay," he answered quietly, nodding. She didn't seem like the sort of woman who ran around with men, even if she looked like the sort of women who ran around doing something. Scheming, maybe, but probably not kissing men. His breathing slowed, and he didn't feel as anxious anymore, except maybe about the thought of kissing her again. There was still a coffee table between them, and he briefly regretted his decision to put so much distance between them. He could feel the anticipation in the air, because he would kiss her again, if she was willing, and it seemed that she was, but he'd have to move around the table to get there and that was far too many steps to make without succumbing to anticipation.

But he tried. He took slow steps, his gaze snapping back to hers with each step as if trying to gauge her reaction. He finally made it around the coffee table, only a few feet's distance separating them. "Promise me you won't force me to go stand by the door after?" he asked, hoping to ease some of the tension with a joke as he stepped forward.

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