For a few long minutes there wasn't a sound in Sam's hut except for the the messy sounds of their kisses and the harsh sounds of their breathing; if Jack had been dressed, Sam would have been pulling at his clothes. As it was, they were doing this unsteady kind of stumble across the floor, trying not to fall and trying not to let go of each other until Jack's back was to the wall and Sam had a knee pressed between his, and--

Oh, God. What the hell am I doing?

She had to take a step back, curling her hands into tight fists to keep from touching him again, because God, did she want to touch him again. But she couldn't, anymore than she could tear her eyes away from him right then.

"Oh my God," she said. She had to force out the words in between her gasps for breath. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have--I can't--"