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?”
Tony only pulled away briefly, smiling softly down on her. Perhaps it was still the transfer of energy or call it whatever you want, but Summer actually made Tony feel better. Sure, her negative energy was bringing him down a bit, but the electricity of the kiss only brought him back up.
He took in a deep breath and raised an eyebrow down upon her. “I see you, Summer,” he stated bluntly.
The shields crumbled away, leaving her all but drowning in emotion; his, hers, like whispers in the back of her mind. Hers poured out into the room: pleased surprise, terrible longing, aching fear, trembling hope. ”Your mouth is very persuasive,” she dared to say, a smile quivering at the corners of her mouth.