When Neville broke away to breathe, Hannah took in a quick breath, her eyes still closed, waiting for him to come back to her, kiss her, touch her. She wanted him to move his hands all over her--she had never, ever understood how people had one night stands or even let strangers put their hands in the bathing suit places in the first place, but right now, Hannah was convinced that she needed Neville's hands on her body like she needed air, and if he touched her, she'd need more.
But he pulled back. And he spoke. And the moment, the spell between them, broke. Like glass.
Her hands fell dully from his neck and pressed against her own lips, as she stared at him, at first utterly bewildered. She just blinked. What had happened. And why. Very slowly, she felt the rise of panic churning from her stomach up to her throat, and she could barely breathe, her eyes filling with tears. Not because she had kissed Neville because she wouldn't take that back. But because she wouldn't take it back. And she didn't understand why. Not at all. Not even a bit.
She was even more broken and messed up than she thought.
Hannah whimpered again, but this time it was so pained, and she blinked tears down her cheeks. In the space of a breath, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to Neville's again, but she made herself break away a second later, putting her hands against her mouth as she closed her eyes and turned blindly away, almost lurching towards the house. Why, why?