Holy shit, what am I thinking?

I'm kissing Chris like he just rescued me from zombie hoards. I swore I wasn't going to do this! I just can't help myself.

All week I was prepared to hate him. I expected him to spend our evening together schmoozing anyone he ran into that he happened to know. I had him pegged as the kind of guy who's eyes would follow any and every other woman that crossed his sight, maybe even compare me to anything he liked better.

I thought conversation would be stilted and forced and that we'd end up sparring over little differences in opinion on even the issues we largely agree on.

The evening has been a complete surprise. A lot like this kiss.

I know my tolerance for alcohol and I paced myself with the wine at dinner. It was really good stuff though, another surprise from Mr. Bennett. I thought for sure he'd go cheap and assume I wouldn't know the difference.

When I stood up I felt it hit me, that warm glow that comes from being in one glass too deep. Coupled with the intellectual stimulation of our easy dinner conversation and the shock that we have a similar sense of humor?

I never had a chance.

As soon as Chris's hand touched the back of my head I knew what was coming and, God help me, I wanted it. I've wanted this kiss since just before the waiter brought the check and now that I'm knee deep in it...I want more.

My hand pushes my front door open and my foot takes a step over the threshold, pulling us both into the house without breaking contact.

I feel him hesitate slightly, as if he's not sure what's happening, as if he doesn't quite believe he's being invited in.

No. Not invited, dragged.

It doesn't take much effort for me to pull him with me into the darkened interior of my entryway.

As soon as we're clear of the door I find myself pressed against the wall, the door slams and I'm pretty sure Chris just kicked it closed but I'm too busy moaning into his mouth as his hands slide over my body.

My hand fumbles along the wall beside me, looking for a light switch that evades discovery and when Chris's mouth begins trailing down my throat and his hands begin trailing up my thighs, I decide light switches are highly over rated.

I'm about to decide that horizontal surfaces are also over rated as Christopher's fingers move between my thighs and press against the moist fabric of my panties.

A moan escapes my lips as my head drops back on the wall.

"God, Amanda," his mouth moves at the base of my throat, "you're so wet."

He illustrates his point by slipping his fingers beneath the edge of the lace and sliding along my seam. The heat from his skin is almost searing as the rough pads of his fingertips make easy progress along my slick folds.

I am wet, I realize. Really wet. For him.

His knee moves between my thighs and I allow him to pin me against my own wall. I wish this dress had buttons down the front, or a zipper down the back, some sort of way to allow his other hand better ingress, a way to slip it off easily without having to miss his mouth on me for a single second.

One hand continues to send white hot electrical sparks radiating through my body as he rubs an expert thumb in firm circles over my clit, his other hand lifting the skirt of my dress, gathering it in his fist and tugging it up my body till it clears my breasts.

Then that hand is palming my breast, his fingers kneading my flesh and then relieving my push up bra from its duty as his mouth lands on my nipple.

I might need a horizontal surface after all. Even though Christopher has me in a pretty secure hold right here. Which is good, otherwise I'm sure I'd slither to the floor from sheer pleasure overload.

Like he can read my mind, his teeth gently pinch and tug on my nipple and his voice rasps as he reluctantly releases it, "we should find a bedroom."

I couldn't agree more. Except for the part where leading him down the hall to the master suite means living without the feel of him on me for the most excruciating 45 seconds of my life.

He doesn't give me a chance to find the light switch in here either. As soon as we're through the door, I feel myself being lifted off the ground. I don't have time to recover from landing on the bed before his body is over mine.

This time his hands work with mine to pull the dress over my head, and then he has my bra unhooked and before I can worry about where it lands, his hands are wrapped around both breasts, his mouth moving greedily between them.

I work to get his shirt unbuttoned, pulling his tie loose and finally free, but I don't get a chance to run my hands over his sculpted chest before his mouth is moving down my body, his hands still on my breasts.

He moves between my legs, his tongue swirling along the edge of my navel before he finally moves his hands so that he can drag my panties down my thighs, making room for his mouth to resume what his hand was doing to me out in the foyer.

"Oh..." I hear my voice break the silence of the room, but any words that I'd intended to form are lost in the gurgled noise that comes from the back of my throat as I arch my back and give in to the feel of his mouth pressed over my sex.

His tongue finds my clit and flickers across it, gently at first and a sound of approval meets my ears when I turn my head to one side and gasp.

Then his hands press against the inside of my thighs, forcing them wider and I don't think twice about obeying their wordless command.

Chris's tongue drags down and teases my entrance before moving back to torture my clit with more deliberate movements, testing my response before increasing pressure.

My hands thread through his hair and I kick my feet free of my shoes before wrapping my legs over his shoulders.

His incredibly well-muscled shoulders.

I moan again, pulling his hair and guiding him back where I need him most as I feel his fingers trace my hole.

Such a damn tease.

I tilt my hips, angling toward him, and rocking, begging him to slip one of those digits inside me.

Then he does. Slowly, moving into me once, twice, then adding a second finger and pressing the tips against the front of my inner wall as they move deeper till he hits the spot that sends me grappling for a better grip on him.

My heels dig into his back as my hands fly up to grip one of the pillows above me.

Christopher's mouth locks down on my clit and he adds that pressure to the sensation of his fingers driving me insane from inside.

The world goes black around me. I clench the pillow tight in my fists and lose control while Chris works magic like I've never felt before.