For a long moment she could only look at him, unable to speak, unable to move...except, of course, for the rich, dark color creeping up into her face.
Finally she managed to breath and it came out in a heavy rush. "Not always," she found herself admitting. "Sometimes I wake up - in the morning, the middle of the night - and I can't tell if I'm still dreaming. I've never had...I mean, I've never been this happy. And I worry that someone, or something, or just - me being me, will take it away."
She held him back, hesitant and uncertain at first, then stronger.