"Open your sensitive mouth," demanded Dave Gahan in the Depeche Mode song Rush, a line I've always found strangely sexy. Heroes must have sensitive mouths, mustn't they? Because of all the kissing they do.
Tilly, lips parted, breathing rapidly, trembling in his arms, simply shook her head. "This is too much," she gasped. "It's too intense...oh God. You are too much. You scare me. You make me feel things. I'm sorry, I'm not making sense, I'm babbling, I'll shut up in a minute if you just..."
She shut up. Not because the words stopped coming, but because a pair of lips had sealed her mouth from above, quietening the stammered flow with the overpowering efficiency of a lightning strike. For a few seconds, Tilly's body went into panicked revolt, the trembling so violent it resembled seizure, and then, as Norman's sweet, hard heat flowed into her and his strong arms wrapped her tight, she began to loosen, letting him in, letting it all go, letting it happen.
Minutes of delicious, swoony kissing, all tongues and sighs and grabbing and rubbing passed before an inconvenient thought burst through all the sensuality to establish itself in Tilly's rational mind.
I'm not supposed to be enjoying myself. This is business! And Melinda, poor cow, is going to want to know about this.
A really great kiss can work wonders. Pucker up, hero boys! Open your sensitive mouths.