And just like that his lips met mine, covered them, devoured them.
A combination of shock, disbelief, and curiosity kept me frozen to him. I'd been here before with Rick. He was a great kisser, and my mouth remembered. Little Benedict Arnold that it was, it yielded to the pressure from his lips as though it had been waiting for them all day.
I tilted my head back a little more, and he came closer. His hands moved over my hips, then grasped each one. Our lips continued to dance and play. My internal temperature shot up about fifty degrees. Then, when his lips pushed mine apart, it went up a hundred more.
His fingers inched up and underneath the edge of my sweater. His knuckles brushed my skin. I jumped back and bumped the table.
"Hey, that's enough," I whispered, without an ounce of conviction in my voice.
"Don't get all shy on me, Stetler. We got it goin' on."
He grabbed for my left hand and pulled me closer. His mouth slammed into mine again. Someone whimpered. Someone who sounded like me. A steady stream of fireworks started south of my border, reminding me it had been six weeks, four days, and three hours since Rick's and my training session.
He broke the kiss long enough to drag his nose along my cheek and down the side of my face and neck. "We'll have it all ... money, success, great sex..."
He trailed down my body until his mouth found my left breast and closed over it through the fabric. Was that the "hallelujah" chorus I heard?
I sucked in a deep breath, gathered all my strength, and pushed against his shoulders. "This can't happen. Not now, and not like this."
"Did you have something better in mind?" he asked, taking a step closer.
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