“I like these freckles.”His lower lip brushed featherlight against her left cheekbone.
She shivered, her heart pounding.
“And I like these freckles…” His mouth brushed against the opposite cheek.“And…”
She held her breath, terrified she would vaporize from anticipation alone before she received her first kiss.“And what?”
“And I’m very interested in your mouth,” he murmured huskily.
At last, his lips brushed hers.
Her pulse soared.Her breath caught.Her entire body surged with awareness.
She was going to swoon.
Heaven help her, she was going to embarrassingly and un-scientifically melt into a puddle of quivering Penelope molecules right at his feet.He was finally kissing her.His mouth was warm and sweet and perfect.She was frozen solid in shock.
Wait, no she wasn’t.Her legs trembled quite alarmingly.And her arms—dear God, when had she wrapped them about his neck?How was she supposed to mentally tally every interaction when she could no longer think about anything but this kiss?
His arms wrapped warm and tight about her.His lips were gentle against hers.Even if she swooned, he would keep her safe.But she did not dare swoon.She did not want to miss a single moment of his lips kissing hers.
The heady sensation of her heart pressed against his did not calm her pulse, but sent it racing even faster.
She had to regain her senses.This was just biology, she reminded herself urgently.The way her breasts grew sensitive and her nipples hardened, the desperate sensation of want deep in her core.It wasn’t personal.This was how their species survived.
Kissing was a reflexive part of the human mating ritual, like the dance of the ostrich or the displays of the puffer-fish.It was nature, nothing more.
And yet, when his tongue touched hers, she was swept into another world.Their connection was not biology, but electricity.A lightning strike, again and again, anywhere their mouths or skin touched.It was the most dangerous storm she could have imagined.A hurricane of unprecedented feelings, overwhelming and unpredictable.A rush like nothing she had ever imagined.Something new that could only be achieved with him.Together.
“What am I doing?”he gasped, and reared back in obvious horror.“Miss Mitchell, please accept my deepest apologies.I—”
“Penelope,” she whispered.
He ran a hand through his hair.“Penelope, I’m so sorry.This was… I have to go.”
Before she could answer—if indeed she was capable of forming coherent thoughts—he swept his hat back onto his head and rushed out the door.
Penelope sagged against the closest wall and tried to catch her breath.Or her thoughts.At this point, regaining any sort of equilibrium would be a miracle.This afternoon had been a revelation.
He liked her freckles.He liked her mouth.He liked kissing her.
She closed her eyes and groaned.Devil take it, she liked him.It wasn’t just an experiment.It had turned into something more.For her, anyway.For him… She brought her fingertips to her lips as if she could keep his kiss pressed there forever.
Foolish girl.She’d gotten what she wanted, hadn’t she?The trial was over.Duchessworked.They were done.
No.She dropped her hand from her mouth and pressed her fists to the wall.It was a good start.Duchessmight be working, but more evidence was needed.
Anyone could steal a kiss.No one purchased expensive perfumes for that.They wanted something more.They wanted everything.She could do no less.
The sexual act was an unequivocal criterion.A biological imperative.It was chemistry.Something she understood.SomethingDuchessought to be able to help facilitate, if she was ever going to bring it to market.She could not give up field research now.
All in the name of science, she reminded herself firmly.Her sudden interest in participating in a mating ritual firsthand wasn’t about her wants and desires.She wasn’t falling for Nicholas.She was simply performing thorough research.As a student of nature.
She lifted her wrist to her nose.The scent was light, but still there.Not that there had been any doubt.He hadkissedher.She could still taste him on her lips.
Penelope gazed bleakly in the direction of her laboratory, unable to smile at her success.The better her perfume worked, the less she wished it would.
She wanted Nicholas’s kisses to be real.
