My pulse had quickened, but in an understandable and manageable way. I wasn’t afraid. I pulled back, reluctant to do so.

“Did that feel like kissing the back of your hand?” he asked.

“Definitely not.” I wouldn’t have been able to describe how it had felt to someone else—the relief I was feeling that I wasn’t a complete freak, how my stomach had flipped, not with nausea, but with anticipation and longing, the urge I had to do it again.

It was too dark to see his eyes clearly, but I heard the hesitation in his voice. “Does that mean I can kiss you on the cheek, too?”

“I don’t know. Try it.”

He took my face in his hands and then leaned in slowly, softly pressing his warm lips against my skin, his rough stubble pressing against my face.

My legs gave way, and it was a good thing he was holding on to me. Although, being held up by your head wasn’t actually very pleasant, so I ordered my legs to start working again and straightened up.

“Good or bad?” he asked, worried.

“Um, definitely good.” There was no mistaking the breathiness in my voice, the way I was shaking from the contact.

“Good. I like good.”

I definitely liked good, too.

“This could be very interesting,” he mused. “Can I do that again? And maybe in some other spots? To test a theory?”

“Anything in the name of science,” I said and smiled when I heard him laugh.

He still had his hands on my face, and I closed my eyes as he pressed soft kisses against my cheek, one after another, almost as if to soothe where his stubble grazed me.

This was . . . amazing. Incredible. How had I not known about this loophole before?

He continued his careful exploration, kissing my cheek, up to my forehead, down to each eyelid, which felt exquisitely sensitive. He went over to the other cheek and then down to my neck, and my legs almost stopped functioning again. My breath caught at the sensation of his mouth exploring my throat. I grabbed his waist, needing something to hang on to.

It wasn’t fear that was flooding through me. It was fiery want. I wanted his touch, his mouth on me, the little trails of fire that followed his lips everywhere they went. I wanted that hollowed-out feeling deep in my gut that was entirely pleasurable and made me light-headed. A good light-headed.

“So nuzzling your neck is okay?” he asked, his words against my skin.

“I am a fan.”

I could feel him smiling. “Me too.”

“Then you should let me do it.” I didn’t know where this confidence was coming from—it was totally unlike me when it came to physical stuff.

“Yeah?” He lifted his head up.

“I want you to feel this way, too.”