She folded her arms beneath her breasts, her lips twisting slightly in a grimace. His eyes immediately went to her cleavage, an action that wasn't likely to improve her mood. He lifted them quickly, hoping not to get caught. He wasn't. Still, he needed to do something to diffuse the ticking bomb across from him.
He knew he couldn't say anything to make it better. He'd done wrong, even if only through neglect, and no excuse would suffice. She wasn't raging, tapping her foot impatiently, instead. She was willing to listen, if he could think of anything to say.
He couldn't. All his excuses were just that, excuses. Maybe... maybe he could do what she was -- tell her without words, without speaking, that he was sorry, that he wouldn't make such a stupid mistake again, that he didn't want her mad at him.
His eyes passed over her raised breasts again. Stupid. He was going to get caught that way. Closing his eyes to prevent any repeat offenses, he stepped blindly toward her, hanging his head in shame. Her scent was closer now, clearer, her shampoo and bodywash familiar. His hands went to her hips, holding her but not pulling her nearer. He dropped his head further until it touched hers, only then opening his eyes. They gazed directly into hers. He hoped she could see his remorse, his wish to make things better.
She sighed and dropped her arms, snugging them around his waist and putting her head to his chest. Sometimes, it was easier without words.