She wasn't prepared. Bast had thought he'd argue more, she had set herself up to defend against words. But this? She had no recourse against this. She never did, not when he touched her. Instead she did what she always did when he kissed her: she melted.
Before she truly realized what had happened, somehow Bast found her arms had wound their way around Hermod's shoulders as she leaned into him. And she was kissing him back. Of course she was. Tactile creature that she was, she couldn't help herself.
But she didn't give in without a fight. At least, not totally. Bast pulled back far enough to mutter against his lips, "Dammit, Hermod."
And then she was kissing him again. Because for some reason, she had to. But she told herself the whole time that she was kissing him good-bye. That's all it was.