She’d baited him back to her place, where she had gentle missionary sex with him. Not only did she allow him to kiss her, but she also kissed him back like her life depended on it. He was sleeping in her bed, while she wore his clothes. His hands drifted across her body, not in need but in comfort. Even her brain, which generally would have screamed at her to run, was just as obsessed with affections as her body was. Not only was she unwilling to push him to leave, but she might also actually beg him to stay. Although, she doubted she’d have to if the way he clung to her in return was any indication. When she drifted back to sleep this time, the consistent internal dialogue pushing her to run was suspiciously silent. 