Foreman froze in place the second the springs gave them away. Oh, Christ, no. He'd given in because he was pretty certain he could control himself, but neither of them had given a thought to a bed that had to be twenty years old. With a sharp, straining sound in his throat, Foreman leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Amber and pressing his mouth to her collarbone. God, they had to stop. He couldn't--there was always the option of sneaking to the bathroom and jacking off, but that would ruin far more than one moment with Amber. She'd be pissed off at him, both of them would be frustrated, and there was still the possibility he'd run into somebody in the hall with his dick trapped painfully inside his jeans. That wasn't going to work any better than this. Foreman shook his head silently when Amber tried to move again, and the same thing happened. "Not like this," he said tightly. There had to be a way they could keep going without advertising to the whole damn household exactly what they were doing.

Foreman kissed Amber's shoulder. She wasn't going to like his idea. The bed hadn't been a problem before they'd gotten a little more athletic. The way they'd been touching and kissing when they'd started hadn't set off any creaks. So, obviously, they just had to tone it down a little. He took a deep breath, slowly adjusting. Amber felt so good, and the temptation to give in and not care was growing with every second. Even the tiniest movement magnified the sensation, the heat and pleasure extending outwards from where their bodies met. "Amber," he said, kissing her throat and rubbing his hands up and down her back. "Lie down," he said. As long as they were gentle, not trying to test the mattress's limits, they could stop before it squeaked again. "Let me," he said, kissing her again before finishing. "I'll go slow." He twisted his hips slightly, urging her in the direction he wanted, lying down and letting him be on top.