Excerpt from Miss Woodley's Kissing Experiment

     

     Geoffrey mulled over the situation, a wicked thought stirring his loins. She was beautiful. And curious. He could do no less than teach her that Harry was definitely not representative of his gender. In fact, was that not what riding instructors taught—to get directly back on the horse that threw you?
     Lifting his brandy, he kept his voice lazy with just the slightest hint of a challenge. She would not know that inside his ears, blood pounded in anticipation. "I would not worry overmuch," he said. "It was just one kiss, you know, and a bad one at that. There are other men who are less, um, wet in their attentions. One might even say you could find someone who makes you tingle." He smiled at her, a long lazy smile borne of too much brandy and a beautiful girl turning to him for advice on kissing. She responded in kind, her sweet lips lifting in a delicate curve, her eyes alight with curiosity.
     He watched her take a sip of brandy, her perfect mouth pressing against the edge of her glass. "Do your ladies tingle when you kiss them?" she asked.
     He set down the glass, only vaguely aware of the impropriety of this conversation, more deeply aware of the rosy glow of her skin in the candlelight, the gentle lift and lowering of her breasts as she breathed, and the slight part to her sweet red lips. "I have never thought to ask," he replied as evenly as possible. "Perhaps we could try an experiment."

 

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