He was going to tell her that he wasn't going to go anywhere. The familiarity behind it, the weird deja vu that came with that thought, distracted him for a second. It was only a second, but it was long enough for her to make with the kissing again, and her lips were a lot more distracting than any deja vu.
He returned the kiss, his arms encircling her tightly, bringing her close and holding her. For a long moment, he didn't want this to ever end. Unfortunately, they did need to talk. They needed to talk about the dreams and what they meant and what they were going to do next. Which is why he was going to pull back from the kiss right now.
Now.
Okay, so it didn't end up happening until they had to come up for air. His brain was delightfully fuzzy and happy, but things were still cranking along in there. "I'm not going anywhere." For some reason, that had felt important enough to get out first. Then there was the other thing, her wanting the dreams - minus this part, thankfully - to be bad food. He knew he couldn't just ask that, though. Instead, he gave her waist an affectionate little squeeze and asked, "Tell me about your dreams?" He was worried about her. About how she was feeling and why she might have wanted these dreams to be bad food so badly. That worry was in his eyes as he looked at her. He couldn't help it, he was a worrier. He'd always been the protective sort.