holding on to the chorus

Then Rio's moving, leaning across the console into her space, those long, strong fingers cupping the back of her neck. Independent of intent or any kind of rational thought, driven by some self-destructive instinct she'd never known she possessed before she met him, Beth's hands come up. Her fingers curl around the collar of his jacket, and she pulls herself the rest of the way into him, her body going rogue before any scraps of good sense she may still have lying around can dust themselves off and put a stop to this. "It's for the alibi, yeah? Don't read into it."She balks, wordless inquiry building on her tongue. But then Rio's mouth's on hers—his hesitation only perceptible if she were cataloging every move, every breath, every twitch, and sigh (and she's not, she's not she's not)—before she can do more than breathe in his air.