He didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at her. He hadn’t done anything. Had he?

“Did you use your … you know, whatever, your mojo on me?”

He didn’t answer—couldn’t answer. He hadn’t intended to; he knew that.

“Answer me,” she said. “Because I didn’t want to, and for lots of very good reasons, and then you touched me and … I did want to. Badly.”

He shrugged a little, couldn’t help but feel defensive. “You could just as easily say you touched me.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have … that thing you have,” she said. “I can touch you without tanking your ability to think.”

“Bullshit,” he muttered.

“Not the same thing,” she said, testy. “Did you, like, wish I would do what you wanted, or what?”

He said the only thing he could. “I … I guess I did.”

“I ought to punch you right in the mouth,” she said. “Seriously.”

He looked back at her, struck by how unfair that was, and how thinking of it as unfair made him feel like a second grader caught doing something naughty. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“You’d better be,” she said, clearly fuming. “Don’t you ever, do you understand me? Not ever. If you’re going to go around taking away my right to decide things, I will walk away, and I will never come back.”

“Lily—” He hadn’t meant to, hadn’t even known he was doing it. Didn’t that count for anything?

“I’m not kidding,” she said. “I’ll go get this mark sandblasted right the fuck off me, and I don’t even care what happens after that.”

The very thought filled him with panic, and he reached out to touch her knee, thought better of it and kept his hands to himself. “Don’t say that,” he said. “I don’t know what would happen but I can’t imagine it would be good.”

“I’m not a toy,” she snapped, “or a blow-up doll. I don’t exist for your pleasure, and I don’t intend to let you bend me to your will any time we want different things.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding. “I said I was sorry.”

“You’d better be,” she said again. “Promise me, right now, you’ll never do it again.”

He stared at her, said nothing for a moment. “I didn’t even mean to,” he said, finally. “I just wanted it very badly. I didn’t do anything.”

“Promise me,” she repeated, “or I’m gone. I am not remotely kidding.”

“You’re asking me not to want things,” he said. “That’s ridiculous. I can’t not want things, and it’s especially cruel of you to ask it of me when I was sitting over there behaving myself, and you asked me over here to sit with you. We already talked about this. If I want you, and I touch you, I can’t help if that … transmits itself. That’s not something I’m doing.”

“So it’s what?” she asked. “A design flaw?”

Even as mad as he was, it made him laugh a little. “I suppose it is.”

“Then you need to figure out a way to not … ” She paused, seemed to be searching for the right words.

“A way to stop wanting you?” he said, and reached for his wine, careful not to touch her. “Fat chance.”

“A way to not want something from me—that way, that capital-W wanting—when you’re touching me. When you can make me.”

“It doesn’t seem to be terribly effective anyway,” he said. “You’ve already proven you can throw it off if it happens.”

“I shouldn’t have to,” she said. “Promise me, or we’re done.”

He nodded. “I promise I will try to remember not to.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he cut her off before she could speak. “Let me finish.”

She shut her mouth.

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep,” he said. “This … compelling people, it’s apparently how I’ve gotten everything my entire life, even when I didn’t know I was doing it. You know how I feel about that; I told you. But with most people I can do it without even touching them, so how could I even know I was doing it? How could I know I was doing something, when just the very act of wanting something was apparently an act of aggression?”

She looked mollified, but still didn’t say anything.

“The touching matters with you, so I’ll try to be mindful of it. I respect you. More than that, I like you, and I like who you are, and I’ve already told you, I like that you choose to be with me. I’ll leave you that choice, unless I forget. And I will try not to forget, because it matters to you. But I did it constantly for the first 30 years of my life, and habits are hard to break. Okay?”

Lily gazed at him evenly, seemed to weigh what he said. “Okay,” she said.

“And I might remind you,” he said, very carefully keeping his voice even, “that I left the choice up to you that first night, Lily, and it was you who crossed the hotel suite and knocked on my door.”

“That doesn’t mean you get to do anything you like to me,” she said.

“Of course it doesn’t,” he said. “But you knew what I was, and you said you accepted it. You understood it.”

“I did,” she said. “I do.”

“Then have a care. I’ll be conscientious, and you’ll be forgiving of slip-ups. That’s only fair.”

She was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right,” she said. “Okay, you’re right. I know your heart is in the right place. I do trust that.”

“Then come stay with me tonight,” he said.

She simply raised her eyebrows at him again.

“I’m not touching you,” he said. “I’m just asking.”

“I told Miri I would call her when I got home, and she could come over,” she said. “She’s worried about me, and she’s my best friend. I want to spend some time with her, and it will be late by the time we’re done.”

“I could send a car for you,” he said.

She shook her head, leaned in and kissed him very slowly, very thoroughly. He kept his hands to himself. “I’ll come tomorrow,” she said. “I promise.”

He reached out and tucked that piece of hair behind her ear again, trailed his fingers down her neck. She narrowed her eyes; he grinned. “Keeping my mojo to myself,” he said. “Not wishing for anything. I promise.”

She rested a hand on his knee for a moment, squeezed. “Tomorrow night you can mojo me till I beg for mercy,” she said lightly. “Now get this guy to turn the car around and take me home.”