"I usually don't even bother with the cork screw," Geralt admitted. His teeth were always more than capable of removing a cork -- and nearly any other thing. But, he supposed he could drink out of the glasses, if Nina wanted it. He could be acquiescent, when he wanted.

He leaned forward while she worked, kissing along the back of her neck, which was pale and enticing with her hair still pulled up. As he pressed his lips against her hairline, the braid began to unwind, sliding heavily off the crown of Nina's head.

He stopped where he was, caught by the sudden overwhelming scent of her hair as it slowly slipped down against the side of his face. His heart gave a fumbling skip.