There was a fragile pleading in her eyes.
Don't hurt me.
How could I hurt you? Jack replied silently. You're an angel.
He leaned down and kissed her. Only their lips touched. He found that he felt powerful, that he could keep her against him without any other physical contact. He felt her hands touch his chest lightly. She was scared, he knew that now, scared that he would do something hurtful, but the only thing Jack Driscoll wanted to do was feel her kissing him back like he was the only man on earth.
And she was. Her small, delicate hands slowly slid up his chest leaving a trail of shivers roiling across his skin. Jack ached to take her in his arms, but he needed to know, could she trust him? Did she want him? Her hands had found his shoulders, now, where they paused.
Jack waited patiently, silently urging her on. He pulled back slightly, nearly breaking the contact of their lips. She made a small sound in the back of her throat that sounded like surrender. Jack bore down on her sweet lips with all of the tenderness he could muster, and she responded immediately. One of her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her other hand slid up the back of his neck and latched firmly in his thick black hair. He was lost to everything around him. The only thing that seemed to matter, no, the only thing that did matter, the only thing he could feel, and taste, and think about was this beautiful woman that clung to him.
Jack finally pulled away. Ann's face was tilted up and her eyes remained closed, her lips slightly parted. Her soft blonde curls loosely framed her face. She looked ethereal. Her eyes finally fluttered open.
There was a fragile hope in her eyes.
You won't hurt me, will you?
No. Jack silently replied. No I won't. You're my angel.