Qebhet made a soft noise in her throat, all thought lost in the brush of his lips, the sweep of his tongue against hers. They swayed together as though dancing to the nighttime symphony of rumbling traffic and distant taxi horns, his arm encircling her waist, her hands creeping to his shoulders. They swayed together, and it left her dizzy, but it was a pleasant kind of dizzy, like the gentle rocking of a boat or the warm buzz of inebriation.
Then the kiss ended, the imaginary music seemed to skip a beat, and Qebhet's balance faltered. She stumbled, catching herself against Much, and heat flooded her cheeks. "O-oh, I— I'm sorry—"