Though his mind had cleared, he still needed to talk himself into loosening his hold, into letting their lips part, into letting her pull away, though she remained in his grasp. Now that the seconds began to tick away again, there was an acutely unpleasant sensation in his head, as though his brain had literally been tickled by a feather. Derek had to tamp down on the automatic wave of nausea it gave him, because he had had this feeling before. Had it before and didn't care for it, or the reasons behind it. Stiffening now that his head and blood had cooled, he edged slightly back from the woman he'd seemingly grabbed, her warm hands linked behind his neck a sudden reminder that they were still very much touching.
Her question was a good one; the problem was he didn't have an answer. He'd have liked to know, himself.
Feeling quite frozen, locked in the intimate pose though he'd all but dropped his hands from around her waist, he held himself in the stiff, official pose that was the most comfortable for him in any uncomfortable situation. With clearer eyes, he studied her again. She was very striking, there was no doubt. A beautiful face, with a figure to be appreciated. The sort of witch he would have no qualms about kissing, strange mind-blanking urges to, or not.
"It seemed…" his voice was cautious and quiet as he searched for the right phrase, "the right thing to do." His brow creased in confusion, because he didn't understand what he was saying, but the words still felt true. Derek had never in his life simply swept up to a woman whose name he did not even know and all but back her into a wall to manhandle, not even in the admittedly seedy days of earlier years. He'd never had to. But apologising felt wrong, because it had felt—well, like a moment. "I—" Derek shook his head slightly, dazed.
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