Self-defenses and excuses rose up in Amber like bile, burning her throat. She'd told him to go slow and he went and hugged her anyway; he didn't respect her limits. But before she could spit these thoughts out at Eric, she took a few deep breaths. She'd promised not to get angry. And if nothing else, Amber had to grant that Eric was being honest. Pissy, but honest nonetheless.

And it wasn't as if he always disregarded her limits. When she'd told him to stop eating her out, he'd all but jumped out of the bed. Hadn't pressured her into anything else that night. Back in the office, he hadn't known, that was all. If she told him-- but she had and it'd irritated him. He was balking at going as slow as she needed. Amber watched Eric in those minutes they couldn't speak. An air of hostility radiated from him, in body language and mood. Like he was ready to yell and stomp off. I don't like getting pushed away.

As the elevators shut once more, leaving just the two of them in the constrained, metallic space, Amber spoke, quiet and thoughtful. "Is it a problem that I need more distance?" She liked how close they'd been. Liked the sex-- when she was in the mood-- liked their physical intimacy. Liked kissing him til her head swam with desire, liked his confidence in stroking her labia. Other kinds of closeness, too-- hearing his happier childhood stories, his career plans.

But right now Amber felt surrounded by a giant wall and she didn't appreciate the implication that unless she brought it down, Eric would punish her either with anger or by leaving her. Her stomach tightened as the elevator slowed down, reaching its destination at the ground level. "I got upset when you hugged me because I'm not ready. And if I'm not ready, pressuring me won't help." Amber knew Eric was better than that. She believed him for at least that much. "I’m not against being close to you—just, I need time before I jump in your arms again."