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Description
I can't think of a better title. xD

Too tired to come up with a good description, sooo... I'll leave you with the quote from "Freudian" to support this picture.

She had to stop talking. He had to shut her up. So for that reason, or maybe another reason unknown to him, he leaned down and kissed her.

He meant for it to be quick, and firm, and done with. He meant to make her stop talking and stun her so she'd leave him alone. But that part of him that she had ensnared from the first time he'd seen her seized the moment and clung to it, brushing his plans aside, ignoring thought and reason.

First kisses should be light and tender and sweet. Wasn't that what girls wanted? But she paid for a hundred crown kiss, and that's what she was going to get. He pressed his lips to hers, closed-mouthed but fervent, the instant, electric connection between them intense and scalding. His eyes closed instantly, every sense shutting down but touch and taste as he slowly tilted his head, the kiss shifting between sensual and fierce, erratic, desperate. When was the last time he'd closed his eyes during a kiss? Had he ever? Had he ever really felt a kiss before? He couldn't remember, couldn't think.

He cupped her jaw in his hands, holding her still, tilting her head back as he traced his tongue over her lower lip, tasting her and teasing her, completely taken in by her. She opened her mouth just slightly, kissing back in complete and honest eagerness, reaching out to fist her hands in the front of his shirt, clinging to him for support.

One of his hands shifted to the back of her neck, tangling his fingers in her hair, holding her in place while the other settled on her hip to pull her right up against him. She was strung tight from her toes to her finger tips, pushing her body against his, pulling his life up through his veins, through his mouth and into her.

Then she opened just a little more and her tongue touched his and the very last of his resolve disappeared completely. His hand spread from her hip to the small of her back, bracing her against his forearm, pulling her up onto her toes as his tongue stroked along hers, every muscle in his body straining towards the space where they were connected. She was pliant and gorgeous in his arms, her palms pressed flat against his chest, burning into his skin through his shirt. She let out the sexiest, most delicious sound he'd ever heard, a half-moan, half-whimper, laced with need and something else. Something more. Something deeper than that.

He heard it and he felt it, in her chest against his, and he would have moaned back, helpless and defeated and desperate for her, but he had no more breath in him. And he realized then that he'd been holding his breath since their lips first touched. And he knew he had never held his breath for a kiss. He'd never held his breath for anyone, or anything. But for her, he did. She took the breath from him.

He pulled back, gasping. His pulse hammered in his ears as his eyes opened. Her lips were pink and bitten, and so kissable he almost fell right back into her, but he resisted, stunned and dizzy. His nerves felt like they would melt right off of him, and his lungs felt like they would burst.

Her eyes were running over his face, unreadable. She looked shocked, and devastated, and elated, and something else, something more.

In love. She looked liked she was in love.

Description
I can't think of a better title. xD

Too tired to come up with a good description, sooo... I'll leave you with the quote from "Freudian" to support this picture.

She had to stop talking. He had to shut her up. So for that reason, or maybe another reason unknown to him, he leaned down and kissed her.

He meant for it to be quick, and firm, and done with. He meant to make her stop talking and stun her so she'd leave him alone. But that part of him that she had ensnared from the first time he'd seen her seized the moment and clung to it, brushing his plans aside, ignoring thought and reason.

First kisses should be light and tender and sweet. Wasn't that what girls wanted? But she paid for a hundred crown kiss, and that's what she was going to get. He pressed his lips to hers, closed-mouthed but fervent, the instant, electric connection between them intense and scalding. His eyes closed instantly, every sense shutting down but touch and taste as he slowly tilted his head, the kiss shifting between sensual and fierce, erratic, desperate. When was the last time he'd closed his eyes during a kiss? Had he ever? Had he ever really felt a kiss before? He couldn't remember, couldn't think.

He cupped her jaw in his hands, holding her still, tilting her head back as he traced his tongue over her lower lip, tasting her and teasing her, completely taken in by her. She opened her mouth just slightly, kissing back in complete and honest eagerness, reaching out to fist her hands in the front of his shirt, clinging to him for support.

One of his hands shifted to the back of her neck, tangling his fingers in her hair, holding her in place while the other settled on her hip to pull her right up against him. She was strung tight from her toes to her finger tips, pushing her body against his, pulling his life up through his veins, through his mouth and into her.

Then she opened just a little more and her tongue touched his and the very last of his resolve disappeared completely. His hand spread from her hip to the small of her back, bracing her against his forearm, pulling her up onto her toes as his tongue stroked along hers, every muscle in his body straining towards the space where they were connected. She was pliant and gorgeous in his arms, her palms pressed flat against his chest, burning into his skin through his shirt. She let out the sexiest, most delicious sound he'd ever heard, a half-moan, half-whimper, laced with need and something else. Something more. Something deeper than that.

He heard it and he felt it, in her chest against his, and he would have moaned back, helpless and defeated and desperate for her, but he had no more breath in him. And he realized then that he'd been holding his breath since their lips first touched. And he knew he had never held his breath for a kiss. He'd never held his breath for anyone, or anything. But for her, he did. She took the breath from him.

He pulled back, gasping. His pulse hammered in his ears as his eyes opened. Her lips were pink and bitten, and so kissable he almost fell right back into her, but he resisted, stunned and dizzy. His nerves felt like they would melt right off of him, and his lungs felt like they would burst.

Her eyes were running over his face, unreadable. She looked shocked, and devastated, and elated, and something else, something more.

In love. She looked liked she was in love.