The fear was gone, and in its place was only a desperate longing to feel Mark close to her, to keep savoring his warmth and that touch she'd craved for so long.
Breathing unevenly, she reached her arms out to him and parted her legs, inviting him closer, to settle between them.
"Make me yours... please," Mary murmured.
Mark threw himself on top of her and kissed her with clumsy urgency.
The moment his lips crashed against Mary's, he opened his mouth and deepened the kiss, seeking her tongue without giving her much time to react.
The kiss was messy, still heavy with the taste of alcohol.
Mary ended up kissing him back as her hands slid up Mark's shirt, found the buttons, and began undoing them one by one without pulling away from his mouth.
When she finished the last one, she pushed the fabric aside and Mark lifted himself just enough for her to slide the shirt off his shoulders.
The garment fell to the floor as he leaned back over her.
