Bel felt her throat go dry at the look in his eyes. It was hard to describe, but she knew if she leaned in just a little more, he would pull her in, and she wouldn't be able to escape. The worst part was, she wanted to lean in, despite knowing this.
"Bel," he called, leaning closer. She felt his breath against her shoulder; it wasn't cold. "Won't you tell me? You liked it, didn't you?"
Bel scrunched her face to show feigned displeasure. She knew she would rather die than tell him exactly what she thought, but she found that she couldn't lie either. She hated that all she could think about was whether he was going to kiss her or not. He was close enough to do so, and it didn't help that his eyes were locked on her lips.
"'Like' is a strong word," she said instead, trying to get off his leg, but his hand held her still.
"I didn't say thank you," he whispered. "Even though you said you'd never do it, you still gave me your blood when I needed it."