He opens her mouth for him, gently, then submits to her explorations. He tastes of cinnamon, nutmeg, spicy enough to almost sting, warm enough to sooth the sting away. Underneath that is the taste of wine, thick enough to differentiate between his own sweet taste and the alcohol they were drinking.

And finally, at last, he brushes just the edge of his palms along the taut points of her nipples, and that latent inferno under his skin seems again to be the strange heat of electricity.