The slow stroke of Amber's hand, down his ribs, to rest at his hip, was the sensation Foreman had been waiting for. No more of this flirting and fighting. They'd had an ordinary conversation, and this would be an ordinary kiss, even if it felt charged with all the expectation of several days' wait. Foreman smiled as Amber flattened her palm lightly against his sternum. Her eyes were clear as water, the slight pout of her lower lip only emphasizing the studied way she leaned in. "Must be," he said, warm, making no move himself because it was that much more satisfying to let Amber cross the last of the space between them.

Her kiss was astonishingly gentle. Foreman's eyes slid closed at the sweetness of it. Amber's tongue flicked out, and his heart fluttered in response, but he kept himself still and open, echoing her kiss but not yet returning it. One thing no one had ever accused him of was being unable to learn from his mistakes. As long as he could tilt his head and follow Amber's direction, the soft, exquisite sensation lasted. After a moment, the kiss ended; Foreman opened his eyes long enough to scan Amber's expression, seeing a warmth there that he'd nearly forgotten. Foreman raised his eyebrows, silently seeking permission, before he gave back as good as he'd been given. No more than the light brush of his lips against hers, barely seeking out the taste of coffee from her tongue, and stopping before either one of them got carried away.

After the second kiss, Foreman pulled back, just enough to gaze into Amber's eyes. He was smiling--he knew it--but there was no effort in it; he'd have to have forced himself not to. "Can I walk you to your car, Dr. Volakis?" he asked, resisting the temptation to keep kissing until he was dizzy with her.