He was kissing her. It was such an unbelievable fact, Anne couldn't quite comprehend it was happening. She hadn't even considered the idea that Trenton would think of her at all, much less--she didn't complete the thought. Before she knew it her mouth was bare and unprotected, and he was so close she couldn't see him. Her heart pulled on its strings toward him, he said her name, pulled her in again--and again, she pulled back. Her fingers twisted in his as her spine arched back away from him. "Trenton--" she did not say his name the way he said hers; it was a warning, a plea for sanity. "Stop."