So, Frankenstorm Sandy is all LAND HO, BITCH, so there’s a decent chance this storm is going to try to kill me. I decided my last act on earth shouldn’t be torturing minions, so I’m giving you one last snippet to remember me by.
“What’s it taste like?”
Ty pursed his lips, trying to decide how to describe absinthe to someone who’d never tasted anise. He took another drink, then turned on his stool to pull Zane closer. Zane stiffened, his lips parting. Ty’s tongue slid along Zane’s lips, their warm breath mingling.
No one in the bar even batted an eyelash. Ty let their mouths linger before he pulled away and met Zane’s eyes. They were dark and wide, and Ty suspected it had less to do with the kiss and more to do with the absinthe.
“Fuck,” Zane whispered, and he licked his lower lip.
Ty eased back onto his stool and took another sip from the heavy glass. “Easy to get lost in.”
“Yes,” Zane said under his breath. “You are.”