A Week to Be Wicked (Spindle Cove, #2)

by Tessa Dare

She understood now why he’d compared kissing to dancing. He had moves. A great many of them. Not just thrusting his tongue in and out, but swirling and toying and subtle coaxing. And just as she always did on a dance floor, Minerva quickly grew faint, dizzy. She felt overwhelmed and out of her depth. Always a step behind. Once again, she broke away. “This won’t work,” she said, wilting inside. “I’m hopeless at dancing. It simply won’t work.” “No, don’t say that.” His labored breaths raced hers. “It was a bad example on my part. Don’t think of it like dancing. Kissing’s nothing like dancing. Think of it as you would . . .” He flicked a glance to the fossil-studded cave wall. “An excavation.” “An excavation?” “Yes. A proper kiss is like an excavation. When you’re digging up your little troglodytes, you don’t just go plunging your shovel into the soil higgledy-piggledy, do you?” “No.” Her wariness stretched the word. “Of course not. A proper excavation takes time and care. And very close attention to detail. Slowly sifting through the layers. Unearthing surprises as you go.” That sounded much more promising. After a long moment’s reflection, she asked, “So who is excavating whom?” “Ideally, it’s a bit of both. We sort of . . . take turns.” She was silent for a long moment. Something about the air around them changed. Heated. She swallowed hard. “May I go first?”