She fell silent, holding his eyes, that little frown still marking her forehead. The warmth of his hand was kind, but she resisted turning her face into it. If touching him while projecting happiness to him risked a bond, how much greater a risk was this? Closing her eyes, she built more shields, until she couldn’t feel anything but her own desperate tangle.
Summer let herself look back at Tony, eyes flicking over his face, imagining briefly what it might be like if he was interested in her. Softly, she repeated, “I don’t know what you’re looking at.”
Tony sighed and began to chew on the inside of his cheek. He admired her persistence but was beginning to feel hurt and slightly annoyed that she wouldn’t take his word. Although, he understood her way of thinking to a degree. His own securities eat him up inside and no one could tell him different either. But perhaps he could show her…He held back the urge no longer and gently leaned forward to press a soft kiss to her lips. “I’m looking at you,” he spoke softly after pulling away just slightly.
Summer froze under Tony’s kiss. Something prickled in her veins, curiosity, desire, interest — did it matter? Tony Stark, who could have any woman (and half the men, probably) just for winking at her, and he’s standing in his penthouse kissing /her/, because she told him she wasn’t beautiful.
Wasn’t worth it.
She swallowed hard, involuntarily licking her lips (scotch, ozone), and managed, “I don’t know what you see. Is that better?”