watching_you | OOM: Suite 130

"A regular Mother Theresa, you are." He returns to the first foot, also working deep in the muscle.

He is careful not to touch her ankle, keeping his touch firm and intent. Nonetheless, he watches her face, curious to glean any bit of information he can.

"That's me."

For a few moments she just lies there, dizzy with sensation. But then she just has to speak, though it might cost her.

"You seem awfully curious about my relationship with Indy."

Mills cants his head to one side, and hums his assent.

"I just thought it was -- interesting the way you put yourself between us. Like you were protecting me." He presses his lips together, suppressing a smile.

"Heh." Her eyes remain lidded, but she smiles. "Who says I wasn't? You're such a troublemaker."

"Oh yes, that's me." He switches feet again, seemingly not inclined to stop any time soon. "Always in the thick of it."

There's a brief hesitation in his motions, and his brow furrows.

"I think he thought -- that we..." The sentence hangs in the air between them.

Veronica peeks open one eye to look at Mills.

"That we what?"

She knows exactly what he's referring to, of course. It's just so much more fun to make him actually say it.

"You know."

He runs a fingertip down the center of her sole, lightly, teasing.

"Gah!"

She jumps at this, instinctively attempting to jerk her foot away from him.

"No no no no no. None of that. I will be unable to prevent things from becoming violent if there's any more of that business."

He keeps a firm grip on her foot, his hand wrapped around, flat against her skin, suppressing any tickle response. "No need for that," he says. "None at all."

Only when she's relaxed again does he release his grip, shifting her foot back to the couch with a bit of a sigh.

She's disappointed, and a little guilty, as she mutters an explanation. "Really. There's thrashing involved. I can't help it."

Regardless, she pulls herself back up into a seated position, swinging her legs to the floor and taking the middle seat, next to him, on the couch. There's several inches of space between them. She folds her hands on her lap and drops her gaze to them, watching as she idly runs a thumb over birthmarks.

"I'm not sure it helps, but the response to your earlier question is 'Probably, yes'."

He leans back, slouching a bit into the corner of the couch, resting his arm on the back. His legs are stretched out and crossed at the ankle and she might notice there's a tiny hole in the toe of his sock.

"I'm guessing you're not in the habit of dragging strange men back to your apartment for tequila and foot rubs." There's a hint of a tease in his voice.

She half-turns her face toward him, cocking an eyebrow.

"And I'm guessing you're not in the habit of being dragged by strange women to strange apartments for tequila and foot rubs. So. Fair's fair."

He regards her with a muted half-smile on his lips.

"You kinda sprang the tequila on me."

"Well, I wasn't expecting foot rubs," she challenges.

There's a pause.

As a much more neutral afterthought, "Not that I minded."

He shrugs a little. "Didn't say I minded the tequila. Just took me by surprise is all."

Veronica angles her face straight again, and stills the hands in her lap. She's looking at -- nothing.

Softly, "I'm just full of surprises."

Mills says nothing.

Instead, he rests a hand on her back, his thumb stroking gently.

In reaction to his touch, Veronica straightens her spine, adjusting her posture. God, this man and his wonderful hands... And she thought she had a thing about touching.

There are still inches between them, but she turns slightly in her seat, curving her body towards him, and that space begins to diminish.

His hand drifts to her shoulder, and he lets the pressure increase, moving up to her neck. Same firm, gentle touch, starting to work on the tension he feels beneath his palm.

Trying not to think about how warm she is to the touch, or how beautiful she looks right now, with her hair falling across her eyes.

Offering comfort, not making a move.

There's a knot or two in there, and though it hurts at first, it's ultimately nice to feel them worked out. She tilts her head to the side, so that her hair falls back over her shoulder, out of his way.

She can't quite look him in the eyes right now. Instead, still slightly dizzy from the drink, she focuses on his shoulder, his arm. A tentative hand reaches up to brush at him, starting at the bunched fabric of his shirt at the elbow, and coming to rest on his bicep.

Later he will wonder just what it was he thought he was doing, but right now, it is instinct that moves his hand.

His fingers massage up the nape of her neck, weaving in her hair. His palm curls around the base of her skull. Gently, ever so gently, pulling her closer.

She allows herself to be pulled, and in fact leans into the movement. Her breath shudders.

On his arm, her one hand clenches, tangling in his shirt; the other lifts to his neck. In a smooth, delicate motion, she runs her thumb along his jawline.

She's close enough she can feel his breath on her face, close enough that her nose is brushing his --

"Wait."

Wait. Wait? Was that -- did she just say that?

Her eyes snap open.

He does as he is told, holding perfectly still. There is a subtle shift in her body language and he relaxes his hold on her, until his fingertips are barely grazing her scalp.

He breathes, savouring her proximity, expecting her to pull away now. He has no real choice but to take each moment as it unfolds.

He closes his eyes and swallows.

"It's just I..."

She doesn't pull back, but doesn't move closer, either. She takes in his face, his expression, and feels her heart pounding.

"I promised I wouldn't..."

It's incredibly difficult to hover like this, like fighting gravity. Bringing her hand around, she brushes his lips, so softly, with her thumb.

"...take advantage."

There's a gentle smile, and his lips part to capture her thumb, holding her captive as he tastes her skin. Just the briefest touch of his tongue.

And then he's the one that's pulling back, his free hand coming up to join the other, brushing her hair back so he can hold her face in his hands. The lines around his eyes deepen as he studies her face.

"You think I wouldn't be here, if it wasn't for the tequila?"

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