Now that is something he hadn't expected. Sweeney's back coils, instinctively drawing his shoulders back from the unanticipated touching, and giving him that moment to understand if he needs to throw a fist forward.

However, the tingling warmth of her lips on his quickly reminds him the act only means one thing. His body's been fighting his maybe-need-probably-want for most of the day, and now there's a swift and overwhelming escalation. No amount of thinking can override that shit.

One hand curls around her shoulder blade, the other catches her by the back of the head to yank her against him, his mouth hungry on hers. Fuck, why does he ever try to deny himself? This, something so desperately craved.