Neville hadn't kissed like this in ever, really. It was instinct, pure gut pounding instinct that had him guiding his tongue with hers in a way that stole breaths, drove hearts, and silenced the world. He felt the way her hand gripped into his shirt, and he felt then as he tilted his head once more to push himself tighter to her, at her beckoning, and deepened the kiss with a passionate hunger that was held together by nearly 5 or six years of crush and interest, and of course desire.
He clung to her, almost despeartely. He wanted her, there was no doubt, and in that moment of having her, it was obvious that mind was numbed, heart took over, and desire was winning out. Irrational behavior had gone out the window the moment their lips touched, and Neville understood now that all he wanted was simply her. It felt like an eternity, in the moment, yet as the moment waned it would feel only like seconds.
It wasn't long enough, he noted, just as he felt the need to breathe and his lips parted from hers in that shortest and most demeaning of seconds. At that point, drunk from desire, Neville wasn't quite sure what had happened. The two of them standing in each other's arms, lips so close, it felt almost meant to be.
Yet, when realization kicked in, he blinked and stepped back almost instantly. Staring at her he let out a breath and swallowed, holding a hand up as he shook his head, "Oh god.. oh merlin Hannah. I'm... I'm so sorry. I.. I ... I know we shouldn't have, or I shouldn't have taken... or acted... that was so ..."
He didn't know what to say. He shouldn't have taken advantage, or acted so brashly, that was so selfish. It all wanted to come out, but part of him didn't want to say it because he didn't regret it. He felt bad because he knew that she'd just ended things with Anton. He regretted being so brutish. Yet he did not regret the kiss, where it still lingered in a desire on his lips and seemed to burn for more attention.