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Oh. That’s what he means.

I freeze, panic locking every muscle tight. This has never happened to me before, so I have no real concept of what to do with my mouth, my hands, anything.

While my brain spins like meat on a spit, the man pins my hands against the wall. My fingers curl and uncurl haphazardly as more embers ignite inside me.

Without waiting for permission, he slides his hand over my arm and into my hair.

Gripping the back of my head, he tilts it back, forcing me to gaze up at him. “Kiss me like you know how, or we’re captured.”

I open my mouth to ask for further clarification.

That’s enough for him. When his tongue probes my mouth, everything changes.

Oh gods.

He tastes of ale, mint, and a reckless danger I’d flee from if I had any sense. The heat flooding me weakens my muscles, prompting me to drape an arm over his shoulder.

Suddenly, I understand how cats feel whenever someone scratches them in that one perfect spot. Bliss melts me into a puddle, and logic abandons me.

This is so, so wrong. I don’t know this man. In fact, I was just running from him. Yet now…

His confident, demanding tongue strokes mine. His toned body moves sinuously, the warmth of his flesh contrasting with the cool stone behind me. He grips my hair and angles my head, giving himself better access.

Sensations overwhelm me.

They coil within me like the tangled threads of the embroidery I never mastered, pulling me in every direction until I lose any ability to reason. I want more and more until I dissolve into this man I don’t know and become one with the pleasure he invokes in me…no other thought, no mission as important as the things his mouth does to mine.

His other hand clutches my hip, his fingers digging in and dragging me closer until there’s no space between us. His thigh grinds between my legs with delicious friction.

My brain shuts down, but my body responds.

I clutch at his tunic, bunching the fabric in my fists. My mouth opens wider, my tongue tentatively responding to his, like he’s leading me in a new dance.

A low rumble builds in his throat as the deepening kiss takes on a life of its own.

His hand slips down to my hip to cup my backside. With a sudden jerk, he lifts me so I’m riding his thigh more firmly. I gasp at the increase in pressure and wriggle closer. I yearn to either consume or be consumed by him, by the temptation of his mouth and the hard planes of his body.

“Good girl,” he murmurs against my lips.

With those words, heat coils low in my belly.

“Hey! You there. It’s after curfew⁠—”

I jolt in his arms, panic driving away all the pleasure.

The man catches me, one hand flat between my shoulder blades as he holds me against him.

Nearby, a crack rends the air, followed by a loud splash. A statue or rock must have fallen from the formation in the square’s fountain.

I pull back and spot a smirk tugging at the man’s lips as the Graywatch guards turn and rush toward the commotion. He winks.

“I think I felt the earth move.” Then he lowers his head and kisses me again.

I should protest now that the Graywatch no longer pose an immediate threat. Instead, my arms wrap around his neck, and my body molds to his. What would it feel like without the clothes between us? How far do I want him to go?

Without warning, he tears his mouth away and puts distance between us like it costs him nothing.

I, on the other hand, am left quivering as my feet hit the ground with a bone-jarring thump.