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The hand coming up to cover her's didn't help her resolve, nor the soft circling brush of his thumb against her knuckles. It wasn't a playful sort of touch, it's mean was loud and clear, setting off warning bells in her head. But before she could push him back, before she had time to formulate something sensible to say, he was leaning inward, expectant but hopeful.

Whatever good intentions she might have been grasping for up to this point crumbled. It was so easy to close those few inches between them, head tilting as she caught his lips in an almost hesitant kiss. Too easy. It was still a bad idea. Still just as likely to end poorly, but now it didn't seem to matter. Now the only thing on her mind was the heavy beat of his pulse beneath her hand and the softness of his lips beneath her's.

What had started hesitantly did not remain that way. A second, possibly two, and she was sliding her free hand over his shoulder and across his back, pulling herself to him as she traced the tip of her tongue along his lower lip.

When was the last time someone had wanted her? Really wanted her, and not just reacted her her interest in them? Peyton couldn't remember. She'd though Noah had, but she'd been wrong, so so wrong. Her love life to this point had been a serious of mistakes and disappointments. Of hurt and rejection. She wanted to be wanted, she wanted to know what that felt like. Just once, just for now. It'd be alright. It'd be alright.

The hand beneath his pulled slowly free, coming up to cup his cheek.

He pulled her in, a hand at the small of her back, and she brought her legs up to curl around his waist, giving him her weight to keep up as well as his own, but it didn't seem as if he had much trouble with it. He was keeping them afloat with long, sure kicks of his legs, hands otherwise occupied. Her own as well, pushing wet hair back away from his face as he murmured against his lips.

It was almost too much. Almost pushed the daintier Sun back across that line of reason, and perhaps if things have gone differently in the near past it would have. Peyton opened her eyes to look at him, inches apart as he tipped his head to catch her lips again, and for that moment she let herself believe it. Let her herself believe it was her he wanted, and not just a warm body with soft curves in his arms after being stuck in a pod for years.

So she ignored the disapproving huff of the demon in her head, and the nagging, stubborn voice of reason that was still trying to break through. Not important. Not not. Later.

Later.

She didn't want to think about later.

Thumb moving against his temple, the girl closed her eyes again, melting into the kiss and the feel of arms and strong hands holding her. Don't think.