He stepped forward, reaching for her hand, but she flinched back, just an inch. Enough to make his heart sink.
"I know what it looks like," she whispered, staring somewhere past his shoulder. "But I've never… I never had sex with anyone." The air tasted bitter, her mouth dry. Her voice shook. "But now… I only want you. Only you."
She didn't dare look at him, afraid of what she might see… relief, pity, or worse… disbelief.
For a breath, he stayed still.
Then, quietly, as if afraid to startle her, he stepped close enough that she could feel his warmth.
His voice was rough, low, almost hoarse. "Jean… look at me."
She hesitated, then lifted her gaze.
And when she did, she saw it, the pain in his eyes, yes but deeper still, an anger not at her, but for her. And something softer, almost breaking.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, voice cracking. "I shouldn't have doubted. Even for a second."
