She didn't know what she was doing. This became plain and obvious when she failed to respond to the feel of his tongue brushing against her lips, until his teeth cemented the moment and her lips parted with instinctive movement. She didn't understand the workings of kissing just yet, and she was clumsy to try and emulate what he did. At the very least, her attempts were more of a token of acceptance, and a request for education. She wanted to learn how to kiss properly, but only if he was her teacher.
Whether or not she realized that he'd pulled her to sit side straddle against his lap was unclear. She seemed to fit there like it was a nook made especially for her, settling in comfortably until she felt like she was home. She found a brand new intoxicant in kissing him, and her clumsy little presses against his lips turned slower, and more meaningful. She was learning.
But she still had so many lessons to go.
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