Couldn't

This isn't random poetry. It's actually an excerpt from a book that I am working on...I can't write from beginning to end because parts of the story eat at me until I stop everything and write them. This was one of those parts and I felt compelled to share it here. The story is about...well, I think it's pretty clear.
~

“I’m in love with you.”

Silence filled the room as the words she swore she’d never say hung in the air. Though her eyes were closed, she could see the shock covering his face, followed quickly by disgust and ridicule, chased by pity.

The tears came, then, and she squeezed her eyelids tighter to keep them from escaping onto her cheeks, which flamed in embarrassment.

She already knew he didn’t love her. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

Which is why she could never tell him.

Sighing, she faced the woman in the mirror. Her eyes were red and wet, burning with the sting of unshed tears. Breathing deeply, she wet a paper towel and dabbed at her face, hoping to dispel some of the blotchiness betraying her emotion. She was alone in the bathroom. He hadn’t been present to witness her shame.

His face came to her again. This time, his laughing eyes held no scorn. His arms surrounded her, his breath warm on her neck. “I love you,” he whispered before covering her lips with his own.

She saw the sparkle that leapt to her eyes before she could stop it and shook her head. Had to stop thinking about him. Had to get him off her mind. She couldn’t, though. He was everywhere.

Exiting into the hallway, she walked back to her office. As she reached for the door to punch in her security code, the elevator arrived and she heard his voice behind her.

“Hey, you.”

Speaking of everywhere. She saw her sad reflection in the mirrored wall of the car before the doors glided shut and it began its descent. “Hi,” she whispered.

“Everything okay?” The look of concern on his face was too much and she looked down, hoping he hadn’t noticed the tears that sprung to sting her eyes again. Damn.

She nodded.

Peering around her, he looked into the window of their office before pulling her away from the door. He glanced into the empty hallway behind them before drawing her against him, his arms moving around her. “Now, call me crazy, but I don’t believe you.”

His lips brushed her temple and she sighed against his chest, lifting her arms around his neck and relaxing into him. Now would be the perfect time to tell him. I love you. It felt so natural, she bit her lower lip to keep the words from breaking free. I love you. She couldn’t tell him. Wouldn’t.

She blinked away the hated tears. Her smile was genuine. “Thank you for the hug.” She tried to step back, but he followed, not relinquishing his hold on her.

“I’m not done yet.” His lips trailed down her cheek to her neck while she protested half-heartedly. He shushed her, risking a glance over his shoulder at the still-empty hallway. When he turned his face to hers again, her lips were waiting.

She smiled into their kiss, marveling once more at the heat they seemed to create from nothing. A tremble shook her all the way to her toes and she tightened her hold on him. He took a step forward, crushing her between his hard body and the wall.

She gasped and he took advantage of her open mouth and brushed his tongue against hers.

Down the hall, around the corner, a door closed and they jumped apart. He released her abruptly and moved aside, pulling his cell phone from his pocket and putting it to his ear, mumbling fake responses to nonexistent questions.

Blinking the stars from her eyes, she turned and tried to open the door to the office. She got the code right on the third try and stepped inside. “I love you,” she said to the closed door, leaning her forehead against the cool wood. She wanted to tell him. She’d said it a hundred times. Every door, window, and wall between them knew her secret. She’d scribbled the words on countless pieces of paper, only to shove them in the shredder seconds later. She whispered it to his car in the parking lot. But she never told him. She couldn’t. Wouldn’t.