Melpomene kissed him like a slow riptide, drawing him toward her, coaxing open his mouth under hers. She wanted hands on her, gripping her tight, wanted to be pressed hard against something harder, wanted pain or something as intense to match what she felt inside, but he wasn't even touching her yet.
Her hand unclenched from where she clutched his shirt and she slid her palm down his chest, hooking around his waist and stroking him with her thumb, touching him to keep drawing him into this, but not so fast he'd balk. There'd be a tipping point, she was sure, when he'd slip over the edge and no longer be able to stop himself, she just had to keep leading him toward it.