He smiled, possessively locking one hand on my side, bent so that he could whisper in my ear. “Damn, Gravebriar.” I grinned. “Silverthorn. You look nice.” His brow quirked. “Nice?” I nodded, suppressing a smile. “It’s a compliment.” “You look delectable,” he said, the rasp to his tone sliding over my skin. Swallowing thickly, I brought my lips just shy of his, hooking an arm around his neck. “Don’t mess up my lip paint,” I warned. He plastered himself to me, his stomach shaking with laughter that held a warning. “Someone wise once told me crimson lips aren’t the only kissable place a woman
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