The Chemistry of Love(82)

A look of confusion furrowed his brow. “No one’s going to make us kiss, Anna. My grandma is not here, and it’s January.”

“There could be leftover mistletoe,” I said defensively.

He was so close. Not touching me but giving off all that masculine warmth that had the phantom feel of him against my skin. He reached down and took my hand, bringing it up to his mouth so that he could place a soft, hot kiss against it. I reached out with my other hand and pressed it against his chest to stay vertical, relying on his strength as my brain tried to shut off and let sensations take over.

“Anna, the only reason we should be kissing is because you want to.”

“I do.” The words were out of my mouth before I could think better of them. My whole body was aching with a thick, heavy desire. “For science,” I added so that I didn’t sound so pathetic.

“For science?” he repeated, his eyes dancing. He let go of my hand and put both of his hands on the sides of my face. “Should we be taking notes?”

I couldn’t respond. Some tiny part of my brain told me again to leave, to not let this happen. But I didn’t care.

When all of my blood returned to the correct spots in my body, I was probably going to care, but right now?

The only thing I cared about was his lips touching mine.

“So many things to research,” he mused as he moved his head down toward me. I held my breath. If he didn’t kiss me soon, I was most likely going to pass out.

Heck, that was probably going to happen either way.

“What does it taste like?” His lips were hovering over mine, tantalizingly out of reach. “Is it sticky? Smooth? How durable is it?” He shifted his head to the right. “Will it end up all over my lips?”

The suspense was both achingly sweet and maddening.

I put my arms around his neck, clasping my hands behind him. “If it did get on you, what color would your lips be?” I asked, feeling a little braver. Like he was lending me some of his confidence.

“Dark red,” he said.

He was teasing me, and he was waiting. Every nerve ending I possessed was vibrating with anticipation and want. The air was charged around us, like lightning was about to strike. So I said what he wanted me to say. That it was just me, just him. This wasn’t about any kind of experiment.

It was about me saying the truth.

“I want you to kiss me, Marco.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE


It was what he had been waiting for. There was a self-satisfied grin that I should have been outraged by, but again, I didn’t care. I just needed him to kiss me.

Now.

I half expected him to devour me, like a starving man. That was how I wanted to kiss him.

Instead he moved in so slowly, drawing the moment out for what felt like an eternity. My lips were tingling in response to his nearness, and electric heat pooled in my stomach.

My whole body was pulsing with jittery anticipation.

“Anna.” He breathed my name against my lips, and I sighed in response.

Then he finally kissed me, with the softest brush of his lips against mine, and I could no longer feel my legs. Jolts of crackling pleasure lit up synapses I didn’t even know I had.

But as soon as it had started, it was over. The kiss was tentative, like he was asking a question and waiting for an answer.

It was like wandering in a desert for three days straight and then only getting one single drop of water.

It wasn’t enough. I wanted to drink deeply. I was very thirsty.

“What are you doing?” I asked, hating how breathless I sounded. “Don’t stop.”

That weapons-grade grin of his was back, and instead of kissing me again, he said, “First test completed. Your lipstick is not sticky.”

“I could have told you that,” I grumbled.

“What are you feeling right now?” he asked, his eyes glittering intensely at me.

Frustrated. Annoyed. Like I wanted to kick him in the shin for giving me the barest taste of something I was dying for. “I . . . I don’t know.”

He saw it for the lie that it was. “Nervous? Excited?”

Completely turned on? Was that okay to say?

“Your cheeks are flushed.” He touched one, and his fingertips were warm and smooth against my skin. “Is your pulse racing? Your skin is warm.”

That was a lie. My skin was shivery and cool, and he was the one heating it up with his touch, but I couldn’t quite form the words to tell him that. It was hard to imagine that a man this size could be so gentle and careful.

“Did you want me to keep going?” he asked in a voice rough with an emotion I couldn’t quite identify.

“Yes.” I pushed up on my toes to close the distance between us, but he moved his head back slightly, just out of reach.

“If this is going to be for science, we need to set up some parameters.”

Screw the parameters. I wondered if there was a way to say, I need you to pin me up against that wall and kiss me like you mean it for science.

“Marco?”

“Polo,” he responded, grinning at me.

“You’ve made your point. Would you please just shut up and kiss me?”

He returned his lips swiftly to mine this time, but it was a gentle press. He held still for a second, letting us both be in the moment. Again those electrical flames lapped at my skin, demanding release. I needed a real kiss. I made a sound of protest against his mouth, and that seemed to change the situation.