She didn't recoil—in fact, she did exactly the opposite. The noise that left her mouth was unexpected and entirely unlike her; he almost regretted that he'd been kissing her right at that moment, because he wanted to know what it sounded like when it wasn't being smothered against his lips. The familiar jolt of arousal shot down through his stomach, and once again he was praying, but this time it was for his own sake—for his ability to keep his own body in check—rather than for her own reaction.

His grip on her waist tightened in response, and for a moment he thought the best reaction he might get going forward was another squeak or two, but then her hands snaked up around his neck, and it was his turn to gasp against her lips. His hand immediately dropped from her neck and joined the other to snake around her waist, and he pulled her against him the best he could manage given their height difference. He'd been so worried about startling her that he hadn't even considered that she might surprise him, but she had, and he was finding it increasingly difficult to calculate his every movement. His mind was cloudy, and every time he tried to think would she like this? or is this too much? he found himself mentally handwaving his concerns away.

She'd said he could have one kiss, and he wanted to make sure it was one he could remember when she inevitably disappeared for the next few weeks, but he was beginning to find it difficult to keep his breathing steady. He pulled back just enough to catch a breath, his face still close enough to hers to feel her breath on his face. His eyes fluttered open, and he stared down at her, trying to figure out what she was thinking, his eyes glazed with something—satisfaction, maybe desire. He wouldn't have been able to tell even if asked.

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