He knew. She didn't even say it- she couldn't, didn't have the right words- and yet he knew.
In just a few large steps, Royce crossed the room and was standing in front of her. And then he was leaning forward, and his eyes were sliding shut. And then there was something soft on her mouth. And then she quit thinking.
It was the first kiss-on-the-lips since the time she ambushed him on the walkway outside her apartment door. That was a fast, gentle peck, spontaneous and light. This was about as far from that kiss as an apple was from a rock. It was sweet and careful, but communicated to her far more than his words prior had. It said that he cared, that he understood.
Of course, the only message she really paid attention to was the one her own lips were sending back to him, in a voice so much louder and clearer than her own.
You are mine, Royce King. Mine. Don't forget that.
They pulled away, but not very far because when Charlie opened her eyes, she still had to look up at him. His eyes were a bright cerulean, and she smiled up into them as she wrapped her arms around his middle. The movement pulled them together again, chest to chest, a position she rather liked as she remembered that he was still without a shirt.
"Okay, fine, wise guy. What's the capital of Portugal?"