[He slides the last olive off the toothpick with his teeth, eyes watching her with only the briefest sidelong diversion. He reaches up for her wrist gently, fingers curling lightly around it. He lifts it higher to his lips, the tip of his tongue catching the bead of liquor before it can go much further, then smothering the remnants of the drip. He isn't even trying for sensual.
Lifting up his chin once more,] I don't understand you. [So yes, that's why you're intriguing.]