She met his tongue with hers, again with a soft moan. Her own embrace tightened, and one hand drifted up his back and slid into his hair.

It was something new, but like the Master she couldn't quite put her finger on what made it so. Unlike him, and perhaps ironically, she wasn't scared. She trusted him. The Doctor had told her never to do so, but she couldn't help it, really. That sense of connection ran deep.