Her mouth twisted into a cruel smile at his reaction, and she pushed forward to kiss his neck, dragging her tongue in a long stroke over his pulse and up toward his ear. She rolled her shoulders back to help shed her coat, only taking her hands off him for a moment to yank her arms from her sleeves. Unencumbered (by the coat, at least) she grabbed him by the shoulders and straddled his lap; the need for someone solid and warm between her thighs spurring her on. And he was warm, if not as solid as he'd looked before the Sheriff took him, but he had the worn-but-pigheaded look of a survivor about him and that was just as much of a turn on.