"You feeling OK?"
 

Willow glanced up from her food, finding herself looking into concerned blue
eyes. She nodded and gave him a smile, "I'm fine. Why?"
 

He shrugged, "You're quiet this morning."
 

"I'm just thinking," she said before looking back at her food. She at least
had been honest. She had been thinking. Thinking about how close he was to
her, how his leg brushed hers under the table as he shifted in his chair, how
the muscles in his neck and arms moved when he took a drink of his blood, how
she wanted to run her hands over his chest and follow the trail of light
brown hair as it disappeared into the waist of his jeans. She grabbed her
orange juice, gulping it down as she felt her skin heat up. What was
happening to her? True, she would often entertain vivid fantasies about
Spike, usually in the privacy of her own room. Never at the breakfast table,
and certainly never this close to him. She just knew he could read her
thoughts and must be laughing at her.
 

Spike frowned as he studied her, "You look flushed, pet. Are you sure you're
feeling all right?"
 

"I'm a bit warm," she managed to say as she tore her mind from images of
plates thrown on the floor and her laying on the table with Spike....she
cleared her throat, a fresh wave of heat spreading over her.
 

"Maybe you should stay in today," he suggested, not liking the idea of her
going out and about if she was ill.
 

"No!" she said, looking at him with wide eyes. If she stayed in, she'd be
with him all day long. She might not be able to control herself from tossing
him down and doing something she'd never be able to take back. "I can't.
Staying in is bad."
 

"Sometimes I wonder about you, Red," he said, shaking his head slowly. "You
look feverish. Do you have a temperature? If you do, I'm not letting you out
of the house."
 

"I don't," she assured him then said, "besides, I don't really think you
could keep me here."
 

He smiled slowly, giving voice to one of his fondest fantasies, "If you were
tied to my bed, you wouldn't be going anywhere, luv."
 

She stood quickly at his words, knocking her chair over. She looked at it
then at him then back at the chair. She laughed a bit hysterically before she
picked it up. "I need to go. I have to get out of here. Buffy. Gonna find
Buffy."
 

Spike frowned as he watched her, a thoughtful look entering his blue eyes.
She wouldn't look at him. For Willow, that was strange. She had this way of
looking at you as if she could see into your soul, if you had one. Now, she
was looking anywhere but at him. In fact, when he thought about it, she'd
been acting weird since he'd first come into the kitchen. Was she angry with
him? They never held grudges once the sun rose. She couldn't still be upset
about last night. He stood, reaching for the plate at the same time she did.
He watched her look at him again in a way similar to a deer caught in
headlights. He saw her jerk her hand away from where it was touching his and
leave the kitchen. A look of realization entered his blue eyes as a slow
smile crossed his face. Sniffing the air, he could smell the faint aroma of
her arousal. He laughed softly as it all began to make sense. Willow wanted
him.
 

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