But a long, stunned moment passed before he was able to dredge words past his lips.

Not that she could force the words past her lips.

He turned to face her, but whatever he was planning to say never found its way past his lips.

She poured it past his lips and ordered him to swallow.

His name slid past her lips, hardly more than a whisper.

She let the words slip past her lips before apprehension stopped them.

The dust crept in, working its way past his lips.

No sooner were the words past her lips than she wished them back.

She could barely get the words past her lips.

Somehow those words wouldn't force their way past his lips.