The trouble with letting Cass set the pace is she has no idea how to do that -- what kind of kiss she wants, or how to steer it in that direction.

Erin's lips are soft against hers, so soft, so warm. There's a tremor deep in her stomach, not nausea but something like vertigo, and an unsteadiness in her legs even though she isn't standing.

She hears a tiny muffled sound somewhere between a startled gasp and the muddled bleat of a half-awakened sleeper, and only then realizes she's the one who made it.