"So that was the goal all along," he accused in a murmur.

“Feofil.” She gingerly pushed herself up off the bed and slid into his lap instead, her skirt sliding against his pants, one hand laid gently upon his chest. “Shut up.”
Then Parisa pulled his head down and pressed her lips against his.

His hands found their way into her hair, his breath leaving him. He marveled at the sweet softness of her lips, the gentle touch of her fingertips on his chest. It was all of his dangerous fantasies come to life.

Parisa pulled back with great reluctance, her hands stuttering along his jaw, her breath shaky in her throat. “Fuck.” She muttered, then explained as his expression shuttered, “I… was kind of hoping it would be shit.”

"With the amount of chemistry we've been oozing?" He replied. "It didn't stand a chance."

Parisa lay her head upon his shoulder, looking into his eyes, her own heady with some odd combination of desire and dolefulness. “I was waiting for you to jump me this morning but it’s really hard to get you to make a move.”

"To be fair, it wouldn't be hard if you didn't constantly ping pong back and forth on whether you wanted me to jump your bones or fuck off and leave you alone." He pointed out.

"Why can't it be both?" her hand trailed down the front of his shirt as she readjusted herself in his lap, legs on either side of his. "Besides, what was I supposed to do? The first time I kissed you, you ran for the hills."

"Well," his hand found its way to her knee, then wandered up the length of her thigh. "You've got me locked down tight now."

Pari's heart skipped a beat and, to her chagrin, her fingers shook just barely against the fabric of his sweater. She curled her hand into a fist to keep it still. Now what?
She'd thought about this for far longer than she'd ever care to admit, but now that they were here, it was... well. She couldn't tell if it was uncertainty or anticipation that rolled her stomach. "You can still run."