His eyes on hers, his hands still gripping her hips, John moved in slow motion. She was glowing, golden, nervous perfection vibrating between the brackets of his hands. He lowered his head and finally, finally fit his mouth to hers. The first touch was a bit askew, and he re-placed his mouth, this time sliding perfectly into the landscape of her lips. She gasped, her lips softening even as her hands tightened in his hair. He grunted at the sharp pull, pinned there against the softest lips he’d ever kissed. Mary’s mouth painted the illusion that he could just keep on sinking in, that she was bottomless, that there were oceans of silky heat just waiting for him to explore.

He kissed at her bottom lip and tugged it gently down. She complied prettily, her mouth coming open under his, and then John couldn’t help but swipe his tongue inside. He tasted the mint from her ChapStick and lime and fresh human woman.

She was all plush, tart sweetness, her tongue meeting his and stilling him. For a moment, they just pressed against one another, as if they were testing to make sure the other was real. But he couldn’t wait forever. His tongue slid against hers and she moaned breathily. He made a broken sound in response and her hands came to the sides of his face, clutching him like she was solely in charge of holding him in one piece.

He tested her, pushing and tasting, and she chased his tongue with hers. She made a sound of frustration that made him smile. The shape of the smile faded immediately, as his mouth was otherwise occupied, but the feeling remained. He clutched hard at her hips, and their heads tipped from one side to the other.

He was dizzy on her, huffing too hard and too fast whatever exquisite toxin she was pumping into him.

“John,” she gasped, her head knocking gently back onto the door. He lifted his head to better see her expression, and it was only then that he realized he’d lifted her. Somehow his hands had fallen down from her hips to her ass and now those electric-blue heels were digging into his lower back as he pinned her against her own front door. Her weight felt so good, as if only with her in his arms could he be positive that she wasn’t going to flitter away, a dream at dawn.

She was here. So real. Panting his name as her fingers dug into his shoulders and her head tipped back against the door.

Holy God.

He planted his forehead on the door just over her shoulder and looked down her body.

“Fug,” he said blearily as he realized that her dress had gotten hiked up to her hips and it was her hot-pink panties that were smashed against the zipper of his slacks.