But Chris' tongue slid past my lips and into my mouth . . . swirled against my own, and Tom's words were forgotten. I relaxed, sighed, and brought my hand to the back of Chris' head to make him press his lips firmer against mine. We kissed . . . deeply . . . passionately . . . our tongues swirling . . . our lips pressing. My little fires were fanned . . . growing . . . dancing . . . snapping . . . crackling.

It wasn't long before Chris' hand slid up to cup the bottom of my breast, his fingers barely tensing. Again, I thought...