He likes her. He likes her a lot. Enough that when she kisses him again he doesn't feel the gentle touch on the burn at the back on neck, only the weight of her palm drawing him in.

Michael Westen is a man of restraint, grace under the worst kinds of pressure, and putty in the hands of a certain kind of girl. He's had two women in his life that could seal him in a kiss; and he's increasingly sure Emma just may be the third.

"Emma..." He groans against her mouth, letting his hand fall away from her chin to stroke straight down her back to rest at her waist. Without waiting for reply or permission, he pulls her toward him - deepening their kiss until he can feel the bruising of his lips.

The steady throb building inside isn't fair, like the raised pulse and dilated pupils.