He rose and took her face in his hands. “Alice, you’re perfect. Stop worrying.” Unable to help himself, he kissed her again, taking her lips greedily, as if he needed the memory of her mouth to survive the afternoon. She relaxed into him, clutching his wrists and slipping her tongue past his lips. He took it, wasting no time in twining their tongues together, relishing the warm, slick taste of her.

She finally pulled away, both of them gasping for breath. “I need to go.”

Clasping her hand, he led her to the door of his bedchamber and peeked into the corridor. It was empty. “No one is around. It’s safe for you to go.”

“Goodbye,” she whispered, then slipped through the crack and disappeared.

He closed the door and exhaled. All of that had been unexpected . . . and wonderful. Too wonderful, actually. Thank fuck he had time to find his own release before the afternoon’s festivities.

As he locked the door and unfastened his trousers, a thought suddenly occurred. That kiss in his washroom had felt as natural as breathing. He’d looked down at her pretty face and upturned lips and needed to taste them, plain and simple.

So, what on earth did that mean?

An hour later, the guests gathered on the lawn beyond the tennis court. Croquet teams were quickly formed, with the Duke of Lockwood and Mr. Archer each leading a team. Alice wasn’t playing the first round, so she sat near the other young ladies, far away from the chaperones. Far away from her mother.

Kit had opted out of croquet, and he lounged in a chair at the opposite end of the table where he sipped a glass of lemonade. There was a red mark on his neck, just above his collar. She’d left a mark on his skin. A love bite. It was depraved and forbidden, and she found herself smiling every time she thought of that patch of red.

Was it obvious he’d been kissed and bitten there? Would anyone know she’d sucked on his skin until it changed color? Would anyone know that her lower half still throbbed with delicious need?

While the answer was likely no, Alice still avoided her mother’s eye, worried Mama would suspect something just from looking at her. She felt positively transformed by what happened in his bedchamber, like she’d discovered she could play the piano after never once taking a lesson. Like she’d baked a perfect soufflé without ever reading the recipe first.

I kissed Kit in his bedchamber, she wanted to yell. Moreover, he had enjoyed it. Perhaps not as much as she, but his reaction had been real. Very real. Impossibly big and real.

She almost snickered. She, Alice Lusk, thinking lewd thoughts. Who would have guessed such a thing were possible?

I am offering up my services any time you’d care to practice.