"I'll take that as a compliment," Paul said after their lips had parted and Kat gave her [i]assessment[/i] of the kiss.  He smiled, then chuckled lightly.  He leaned in for another shorter though no less passionate kiss, then a bit of a wet lipped peck as he whispered, "I like kissing you, too."

Paul was good at a lot of things: squash, chess, snow skiing ... killing.  He was good at kissing, too ... or, at least, he'd been told he was often over his adult years.  For his looks and confidence, most people wouldn't believe that he'd been a late bloomer when it came to women.  But he'd learned quickly, and one of the biggest lessons he'd learned during those first few relationships was that the way your current partner did it -- whether [i]it[/i] was dancing, grinding, groping, fucking, or just kissing -- [i]that[/i] was the [i]right[/i] way if you wanted to continue doing [i]it[/i].  Paul had sensed that which Kat had been looking for in a kiss, and the result was a passionate kiss that he hoped had made her as hot inside as he was hard down below.

"Sound like a couple of teenagers standing out front of the house, 'fraid daddy's gonna turn on the porch light and interrupt the fun," he said, kissing her once more before pulling back with Kat's hand in his, pulling her away from the railing.  He walked backward a couple of steps, eying her hungrily before finally turning while keeping his eyes on her.  After a few steps he stopped short, turned to pull Kat to him again, then said without shame, "I would like to take you to my room, Kat Malloy."  He gave her just a moment to contemplate his next words, then added, "I would like to make love to you."