Sinthia greatly hoped to keep him blind to all that, and brushed her fingers over the back of Illya's hand as they let go, bringing her hand up to Solo's shoulder. In her heels she had gained some height, but still needed to rock forward and up to comfortably reach either of the boys for a kiss.

Her lips touched his, head cocked just a few degrees to make them fit, settling into each other after a moment of tenseness, though Sinthia didn't risk anything more than a simple, soft, closemouthed kiss. She could feel the contour of muscle under his clothes, the ridge between his deltoid and trapezius that she traced with her fingertips. She had skill at this part, at relaxing her partner (enough to give information) and at keeping interest in her. She hadn't used it in a while, but it was no less easy to step back into. Her mouth tasted like good vodka, and the syrupy tartness of lime juice and grenadine with it, the taste half-planned to be accessible but not ordinary.