The chewy, sour bread felt good in Becca's mouth. She took a bite of the cheese, then the bread, switching back and forth. Jared picked at the food but drank the wine like it was soda, leaning against her as he relaxed. More than once she had to snatch the bottle from his hands, drinking just enough to wash down her lunch before he reclaimed it.

After one ill-timed swig, wine spilled down Becca's chin and onto the front of her jacket. Jared wiped his thumb across her face, then sucked the remains from his hand. It was more intimate than the way he usually touched her, but Becca didn't mind. It thrilled her, like that feeling of speeding down the road with the window open and her favorite song playing.

"Mmm, it tastes better on you," he said.

Becca's stomach somersaulted. She wanted him to touch her again, but she couldn't say it.

"You're drunk," she teased.

"Not that drunk." He handed the bottle back to her. This time she drank carefully, draining the last of the liquor.

Jared's mouth was on hers in a flash, sucking wine from her lips and probing her sweetened mouth with his tongue. He wrapped a long arm around her back and pulled her closer. The ground beneath Becca seemed to drop out. She clutched his t-shirt with one hand, holding on as though she might fall away, and opened her lips to him.

Once Becca started kissing him, she couldn't stop. She tasted each corner of his mouth, savored the feel of his strong tongue sliding over hers, and drank him until the flavor of strawberry wine was replaced by the taste of clean saliva. Her hands slid under his t-shirt, where his flesh started at the touch of her cold fingers. Soon he relaxed, letting her warm them on his radiant, flat belly.