Oh, you know. Whipping cream, or grenadine. Syrup, but that would be sticky.

[For a second or two, she watches him quietly, gauging his mood and the warmth of his smile before letting her head tip to one side, silently offering the column of her neck to him while her hand over his recedes slightly, no longer out to inhibit him from touching her.]

Ice cream, but that would be so cold. Champagne. Wine, perhaps.