[ even if he'd ended up getting cold feet and going for her cheek, too, he'd been hoping he'd be able to at least embarrass her in return a little bit. Then he'd be a little bit more in his element. Really, his emotions just got the better of him faster than he could reel them in, but at least that would make a good excuse in case she didn't want to -- well, she'd started it, but maybe she'd be uncomfortable if it came from him -- maybe this wasn't the time, or she was nervous, or maybe -- so many maybes, he's so nervous around her. Then he feels a tug about his neck and suddenly she's kissing him herself.
This woman definitely could have killed him.
His eyes snap open in surprise for a moment, but only a moment, and then he's kissing her back and closing them once more as if slipping into a dream. Because this really has to be one; this is just too self-indulgent. But her lips feel so real that he doesn't even care anymore. His hesitation gives way to gentleness as he returns her affection, softly, slowly, carving the sensation of her kiss in his memories - whether this is real or not, whether he's dead or alive, it doesn't matter. She meant more than the world to him. Her clear gaze, her true heart, her passion for teaching, her stupid, stupid t-shirts - he loves her so much that he can feel it aching in his fingertips. If he can be here with her - if she's happy with him - if he could transmit that feeling to her - that's all he could ever wish for.
After a long moment or two, he breaks away just enough to take a breath. But, before he knows it, he finds himself smiling, a giddy feeling bubbling up in him as if to spite his earlier somberness. His hands slip from her face to her back and waist, and, in that cheesy manner that seems so natural to him, he dips her like a movie star, leaning into kiss her one more time with a playful chuckle in his throat. ]
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This woman definitely could have killed him.
His eyes snap open in surprise for a moment, but only a moment, and then he's kissing her back and closing them once more as if slipping into a dream. Because this really has to be one; this is just too self-indulgent. But her lips feel so real that he doesn't even care anymore. His hesitation gives way to gentleness as he returns her affection, softly, slowly, carving the sensation of her kiss in his memories - whether this is real or not, whether he's dead or alive, it doesn't matter. She meant more than the world to him. Her clear gaze, her true heart, her passion for teaching, her stupid, stupid t-shirts - he loves her so much that he can feel it aching in his fingertips. If he can be here with her - if she's happy with him - if he could transmit that feeling to her - that's all he could ever wish for.
After a long moment or two, he breaks away just enough to take a breath. But, before he knows it, he finds himself smiling, a giddy feeling bubbling up in him as if to spite his earlier somberness. His hands slip from her face to her back and waist, and, in that cheesy manner that seems so natural to him, he dips her like a movie star, leaning into kiss her one more time with a playful chuckle in his throat. ]