[ if that is what he sees, then she is either far more transparent than she believes or he can somehow see through her with a disconcerting sense of ease and clarity. perhaps it is a combination of both. whichever the case may be, elizabeth is already more than simply a little nervous now, seated before him. he is watching her with such a quiet intent that it is nigh upon unnerving. he is in the right of it; her fears do her no good service here. neither with him, nor with anyone else. but especially not with him.
that, too, he seems able to see. the thought how much more can he see crosses her mind, but only briefly. it has no chance to linger when cesare takes her chin in hand and god forgive her, but she cannot restrain the shiver that races down her spine when he draws his thumb over her lip. elizabeth does not need to feel the heat gathering in her cheeks to know that she is blushing.
she releases a shaky breath, too startled and stunned in order to do anything either way for several moments strung together. but when he draws her closer and leans in, she can feel her heart begin to race in her chest. she barely knows him. and yet.. the things he can make her feel. her eyes meet his, and in that moment, he has effectively caught her. there is no possible way in which she might fathom an explanation or excuse for her reaction to him. a part of her, larger and more vocal that she might like, does not wish to.
he is forcing her to cease, even for a moment to hide behind a mask, or excuses and pretty words. she does not want to hear or speak pretty words when he looks at her like this. she does not know what she should be doing, or thinking or feeling. he has caught her. she sighs quietly, almost as though in defeat but also perhaps in some sense of relief, and capitulates by leaning in a touch further, giving him her assent that he might take his prize. ]
no subject
that, too, he seems able to see. the thought how much more can he see crosses her mind, but only briefly. it has no chance to linger when cesare takes her chin in hand and god forgive her, but she cannot restrain the shiver that races down her spine when he draws his thumb over her lip. elizabeth does not need to feel the heat gathering in her cheeks to know that she is blushing.
she releases a shaky breath, too startled and stunned in order to do anything either way for several moments strung together. but when he draws her closer and leans in, she can feel her heart begin to race in her chest. she barely knows him. and yet.. the things he can make her feel. her eyes meet his, and in that moment, he has effectively caught her. there is no possible way in which she might fathom an explanation or excuse for her reaction to him. a part of her, larger and more vocal that she might like, does not wish to.
he is forcing her to cease, even for a moment to hide behind a mask, or excuses and pretty words. she does not want to hear or speak pretty words when he looks at her like this. she does not know what she should be doing, or thinking or feeling. he has caught her. she sighs quietly, almost as though in defeat but also perhaps in some sense of relief, and capitulates by leaning in a touch further, giving him her assent that he might take his prize. ]