Amaya could not breathe, and her lungs were about to burst. She pushed Marx away.
"What are you doing? Why did you cover my mouth? I cannot breathe." She gulped in the air.
Marx was still breathing heavily. "I'm sorry," he said hoarsely. "Let us head back. I'm getting sleepy. It must have been the wine." He made a lame excuse.
He stood and extended his hand to help her up. Amaya accepted, and she felt good holding his warm hand. She traced her lips with her finger and remembered the tingling sensation she had felt earlier.
Max rolled the animal skin and picked it up. Then, in silence, he and Amaya walked back to the cabin.
'Damn! What have I done!" He glanced at Amaya but she was sauntering as if nothing happened.
Marx liked the kiss. Her lips tasted sweet, like the wine they had drank earlier.
