John found it hard to process what was happening, his brain having momentarily given up to function properly when Clara's mouth was pressed against his own. His stomach was doing somersaults and his body refused any command. John found himself parting his lips, making way for her tongue as his hands reached for the back of her head to pull her closer. He was kissing her, actually kissing her and he hadn't even known how much he had wanted to do that. Clara's lips were so soft, her breath so hot against his own and while his mind screamed for him to stop, John couldn't bring himself to do it. He just wanted to spend hours kissing Clara.
Finally reason won over and John gently pushed her away. He almost regretted it when he looked at her, sweet Clara with her puppy dog eyes and her cute, little nose and her lips that were going to haunt him from now on until eternity. Why must he want her so badly?
John cleared his throat. “Clara,” the words came out weak and hoarse, “You can't kiss me when I'm mad at you.”
“Shut up,” Clara ordered him breathlessly and before he knew what was happening, her mouth was back on his own, kissing him fiercely. John thought that he was prepared this time, that it would be easier to stop her, but Clara was doing a really good job at kissing away any remaining sanity.
He stumbled back until the wall blocked any possible escape route and Clara pressed herself against him, her lips never leaving his for a single moment and John cursed his own body for reacting to her the way it did, praying that she wouldn't notice. He would drown in her if he could. Eventually Clara broke the kiss, gasping for air and slowly stepped away from him. John needed a moment to gather his thoughts and apparently, so did Clara.
“Clara-,” he began when he found a voice to speak.
“Please, don't say it,” she interrupted him again, “I'm sorry. For telling everyone.”
John didn't reply. He had no idea what to say to her. Not after that kiss. All he felt was the rising urge to repeat it and it took all of his strength not to act on it.
“Are you very mad?” Clara asked in a low voice.
“Confused, mostly,” he couldn't help but laugh, “I was angry and now I'm just. . . Why on earth did you kiss me? I thought we had an agreement.”
Clara shrugged and took a step closer. “I just wanted to,” she said simply, “And now I don't really want to stop.”
“No,” John said immediately, stepping out of the way, “Stop that right now! It's really confusing me. I should just go.”
Clara stared at him through those impossible eyes. Yes, that was the word. Impossible.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he said, his voice desperate. John had been doing so well, suppressing his feelings for her, waiting for them to finally go away and now he couldn't even look at her without wanting to kiss her again. She was everything he should not want but did and it had never been as bad as it was right now.
John inhaled sharply. “I should go home. And you should go back inside. Your guests are waiting. We'll talk another time when I can think clearly again.”
He waited for Clara to nod in reply before he turned around and slowly walked back to his own house, the taste of her still clinging on his lips like a curse.