He swung her up into his arms and kissed her with everything he’d been holding back.
“Bed?”he gasped, when he came up for air.
“Too far.”She gestured behind them, panting.“Chaise longue.Much closer.”
He would have preferred a bedchamber.More romantic, more special, more…official.But the evening wasn’t about him.It was about Penelope.Anything she wanted, he would give her.
In less than a heartbeat, they were reclined on the chaise and back in each other’s arms.His pulse galloped in urgency.Perhaps it was their proximity to the fire that simmered his blood and fogged his brain.
Or perhaps it was the knowledge that this might be their last night.Theironlynight, if he didn’t do this right.He cradled her face and kissed her.
“Touch me,” she whispered.“Like you did before.”
With pleasure.
That was, until a belated thought struck him.
“The alarm isn’t set, is it?”he asked suspiciously.He loved the taste of spiced sugar but did not look forward to falling off the chaise in a blind panic.“How much time do we have?”
Her gorgeous brown eyes twinkled up at him.“Is sunrise long enough?”
He gave her a lopsided smile.He rather suspected a thousand sunrises wouldn’t be enough.
Chapter 12
Penelope’s heart raced in anticipation of Nicholas’s touch.Although she now knew how intimate her breast would feel in his hand, the decadent sensation still took her breath away when at last he gave her the delicious torture she sought.
His kisses were just as magical.Heady and disorienting, full of wicked promise and incredible sweetness.She wanted it all.
When he broke their kiss, she raised her head to complain—until he tugged down her bodice and placed his mouth to her breast.With a gasp, her head fell back against the cushion to revel in the sensation.
Had she thought his fingers were delicious torture?This was a hundred times worse and a thousand times better.It defied science.It was pure feeling, pure desire.Her body didn’t just yearn for the sex act.She yearned forhim.
Nicholas was the active ingredient in this combustible formula.His kisses made her lightheaded becausehewas the one doing the kissing.His touch made her desperate for more because it was him that she wanted.
He saw her as more than some bluestocking spinster.More than a science-obsessed lady chemist.He saw her as a passionate, sensual woman who was all those things and so much more.Worthy of his desire, and her own.She threaded her fingers into his hair.
He, too, was far more complex than appeared at first glance.
Although she did not know art as well as chemistry, she understood wanting to make new things with one’s hands.She happened to do so in a laboratory, and he with a kiln.They were more alike than one might think.It frightened her.
Any woman with a pulse would beg for a chance to share physical pleasure with a man like Nicholas.The realization that they might form a compatible compound made her glad he was going away.She could not stand to have him close, and still nothavehim.
But for a few hours, he was hers.
Her back arched with pleasure at his touch.She could not wait to copulate with him.He was all she could think about.
Today, she wore extra droplets ofDuchesson each pulse point.Everything else could come off.She’d happily burn her clothes in the fire to bring her body in closer contact with Nicholas.He was magnificent.The sensations his mouth teased from her nipples made her want—
Cool air kissed her bare thighs as his warm hand slid to cup her core.Her mind fogged.When had he lifted her skirts?Were they even still clothed?She didn’t know and didn’t care.He’d begun to dip a fingertip inside.Rhythmically.Deliciously.
He returned his mouth to hers as he continued to work his magic.
Her lungs forgot how to breathe as the inexorable coil of want began to expand and build within her.She recognized the warning signs.Her fingers were not nearly as talented as his but had often brought release she could not find elsewhere.
He was bringing her close to the edge, but she didn’t want his fingers.She wanted him.All of him.This was a moment that was meant to be shared.
She tugged his shirt from his waistband, fumbled for the buttons of his fall.
