This time, when her heart stutters in her chest and she draws in a breath through her teeth, it's not quite the same, and it's the strangest fucking thing. He's kissing her, and there's little she wants more than to have him continue, to lose herself in fucking him the way she knows she should be able to, but it's like her mind and her body are at odds, what's recognizable now as panic tightening her chest. If she stopped to think about it, she might even find it understandable. Neither stopping nor thinking is something she has much interest in, though, nor is letting some physical instinct hold her back now. Head tipping to the side, she curls her fingers in his hair, trying to will any nervousness away.