mouth on hers was real and true and she wouldn’t change it, for all of the trouble she had found herself in tonight.
It was a strange set of circumstances that had even brought her here, to this moment with him. She would not have another opportunity like it again. It would be just this once.
She’d already vowed there would be only this one night of adventure. One night in which she had to make every moment count. A moment to be a little more Prim, and a little less proper.
The kiss was as fleeting as it was sudden. He eased back, his breath fanning her lips.
His dark eyes darted over her face, touching everywhere.
“Have I offended?” His voice husked over her lips.
“No,” she replied shakily, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. “I . . . I have no objection if you want to do that again.”
“Oh I want to do it again. Very much.”
Some may say it’s permissible to kiss a gentleman to whom one is engaged, but I urge young ladies to say no! to this, no, no. A lady’s virtue must be maintained at all times.
—Lady Druthers’s Guide to Perfect Deportment and Etiquette
A lady should decide where her lips go.
Chapter Twelve
She closed the space this time—which really wasn’t any distance at all, considering they had perfected the art of talking against each other’s lips.
This kiss was different.
Less tentative.
Prim started it, angling her mouth against his, reveling in the increasing pressure.
Jacob’s hand settled on her shoulder, grasping, molding to the curved shape before sliding down around her back and hauling her in until their bodies were fully meshed. Lying on her side, she could feel the beat of his heart through his clothing as it thumped against her breast.
The kiss grew between them. Deepened until she knew the shape and texture and taste of him. Until it became a thing that was its own life—a force that pulsed and turned and altered.
Just as she thought she knew what this kiss was, it became something else. Something hotter. Something that made her knees tremble. Something that sent sensations to places she had largely ignored all her life. Parts of her body she had never thought of other than in a functional way.
She parted her lips and his tongue licked inside her mouth, making contact with her own. She jerked, startled, and pulled back.
He pressed his forehead to hers, his breath falling ragged. “Apologies. I did not—”
“Is that . . . done? People do that?”
“With tongues?” he queried. “Yes, when they like each other well enough and want to.”
He liked her enough. He wanted to? “And you want to . . . with me?”
It was incomprehensible that the gentleman from Gunter’s this morning—that dashing, handsome, confident gentleman—could now desire her in this way.
“I want what brings you pleasure. Only that.”
She shuddered, certain that no one, other than herself, had ever put her pleasure first. There were too many things, too many others, too many blasted sisters who came before her.
She moistened her lips and kissed him again. An open-mouthed kiss, her tongue tentative, tasting his bottom lip, and she understood.
She understood want and desire and what poets had been talking about when they waxed on using grandiose metaphors.
He kissed her back, deeper, his tongue caressing, stroking, and oh . . . she understood.
His hand moved to her face, cupping her cheek, fingers delving into her hair as their lips tasted each other.
The fresh scent of earth rose around them as they rolled on the ground, leaves rustling about them, snagging at her hair, but she did not care.
The kissing went on and on, but still, it was not enough.
Eternity would not be enough.
Heads slanted, turning at different angles for a deeper taste, but it never seemed enough.
His hand was on her face, her shoulder, then her back, then her hair again.
Jacob’s heart found its rhythm, matching the beat of hers.
Prim wasn’t certain who stopped first. Or how they came apart. Or how long they’d been locked together.
A long time.
It had to have been a long time. A lifetime had passed during the span of that kiss.
Their breathing mingled in heavy pants, noses aligned and touching.
She clutched the lapels of his jacket, holding on to him tightly, fingers flexing in fabric, unable and unwilling to let go.
“That was . . .” Her voice faded on a gulp. “I wish it weren’t so dark. I wish I could see your face.” The better to remember this moment.
She inhaled, imprinting his scent