( The voice ever present in her mind — the one that brings forth the intrusive thoughts that lead her to spiral into paranoid and frantic episodes — tells her that she should stop this madness before it begins. They should stop before they cross the threshold they can never return from.

Sitting there beside him, feeling his fingers travel higher up her leg, her stomach twists and turns in knots as fog settles over her mind, making it harder to grasp onto reason. Harder to will herself to stop this sin they are about to commit.

The words that escape his lips are reassuring and bring her some comfort as she tries to tread carefully upon this path she's never gone down before. To give into desire, the sinful temptation that already has her craving more of his touch. Her hand on his thigh shifts higher, splaying almost teasing as her fingers press into the flesh of his thigh.

Her thumb drags along his lips, her finger curling around the angle of his jaw to tilt his head to make him look at her. )

I know you wouldn't; you've always been so good to me, but are you sure this is what you want? We should stop before it is too late.

( While her words give them an out, to stop this before it goes too far, the way she touches him and looks at him with her brows knit together and lips parted says the opposite, that she might want this just as much as he does. )