A light, muffled sound made its way from Foreman's throat, matching the softness of Amber's kiss. His satisfaction increased about tenfold in that first second, and then he was concentrating on the kiss itself. Amber's teeth caught his lip, though gently, and the slight suction left him nearly lightheaded with sweetness. Forgetting about Amber's rules, or who was following what pace, Foreman's grip on Amber's hips firmed, and he tilted his head to kiss her back. He didn't have to work to forget the past two days, then; they slipped even from the back of his mind as he focused on the careful intensity of the kiss. Amber's arms were crossed between them, another barrier, but Foreman wasn't trying to break down any walls. It was enough to taste Amber's mouth, exploring cautiously, remembering the tingling rush that accompanied the brush of his tongue against hers.

He licked his lips when Amber drew away. Breathing lightly, he took a moment to take in Amber's words. Wine--TV--right. Foreman nodded, doing nothing from stopping what had to be the most ridiculous pleased smile from taking over his face. Since Amber still had an armful of her clothes, he backed off to let her deal with them. "I can get the glasses?" he suggested. Probably Amber would want to open the bottle and pour for them--he would, if they were at his place--but he'd started to get a sense of her kitchen, and he could contribute that much.