"I need you here with me," she cried desperately as she wrapped one arm about his neck and the other against his back, fervently pressing her lips against his. He hesitated, not returning her kiss, filled with confusion and - God help him - suspicion.

Saying her name softly, he tried to pull back, but without even thinking about his actions, his hands found themselves resting upon her arms, drifting across her back and his lips responded to the lure, the clinging of her own. And despite the thoughts running through his mind, he could not help but return her kiss.

His arm wandered up her back as his hand rose to cup her face, his thumb a gentle pressure against her flesh while she captured his top lip between her own. Passionately, she molded her form against his body � but there was more than passion in her kiss, in her embrace. There was desperation: a terrible, terrible desperation and he knew that something was wrong.

So he pulled away, whispering to her softly, "stop, stop. Stop. What is this?" and his forehead rested against hers, his hands still cupping her face.