The more Heather kissed him, the more her head felt like it wasn't attached to her body anymore. She couldn't think straight, couldn't breathe, couldn't even stand up without holding onto him, as if her knees were made out of rubber and couldn't hold her up. He weakened her in a sense, and yet the way he made her feel caused her to also feel stronger in other areas of her life. It all sounded so sappy in her own head, and she couldn't believe she was thinking things she'd only ever heard about in books and movies, but then again, she'd never met Sam before coming to L.A.
Her hands slid back from his face and into his hair, fingers tangling in the dark strands while she moved even closer to him, despite the fact that he'd pulled away slightly to speak in a tone of voice that was really no louder than a whisper.
"No," she replied urgently, still kissing him between words. "No, we don't need to stop, Sam."