She moved closer, drawing her knees between his splayed thighs. Leaning forward, she brushed her lips over his. The blissful shock of it rattled his very bones. But as she receded, he kept his tone glib. “You can do better.” She took the challenge and kissed him again, more firmly this time. Her tongue flicked out, nimble and curious. And all too fleeting. “Better?” “Better.” Almost too good. “Hmm. You taste of spirits here.” Her tongue traced the edge of his lip. “But here”—she dipped her head to nuzzle the underside of his jaw—“you smell of spice. Cloves.” Bloody hell. Colin’s eyes went wide
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