Right before their lips met, Ophelia's senses kicked in with astounding clarity once again, reminding her that this was a bad idea and the wisest course of action was probably to turn and walk away or... smack him, or... anything but let him kiss her.
What she would tell herself later would be that she'd had no time to react differently, but it would only serve as a half-hearted excuse to explain why she simply stood there the entire time, allowing him to draw her into a kiss and back into his trap. Ophelia's eyes closed and she took a long breath, breathing him in, stubbornly unresponsive lips eventually softening as her earlier resolve was swept away in the one simple movement. Her arms across her chest loosened and eventually fell to her sides just as he pulled away.
It was all she could do not to step forward and demand more.
He was the worst. He was manipulative, and this was mean-- it was so mean. Grayson had to know how long she'd wished to have such affection back again, and all she could think of was how much it would crush her if this turned out to be a scheme, a fake. She had spent so long trying to steel herself and accept that he was gone, so to have him suddenly standing in front of her like this-- how--
It was the floor that found her eyes again, but because she found her teeth bearing down on her bottom lip as her throat constricted in a feeling that had been all-too-familiar over the past year. In all honesty, the resentful part of her wanted him to see what all of this had done to her, but somehow she fought it instead and attempted to hide the weakness that he had just exposed.
"I-- understand," is all she choked out, trying not to sound as exhausted, teary, or relieved as she felt. What had she let this man do to her?
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