Page 7

O h .

Analise inhaled sharply as Finley’s fingers twisted through her damp hair, pulling her mouth to his.

His lips were soft. Warm. Surprisingly gentle.

She was so surprised Analise didn’t even object.

This was…a kiss. A real kiss. Impolite and unapologetic.

Nothing at all like the kiss bestowed upon her by Mr. Entwhistle.

She was perfectly aware of what transpired between a man and woman, of course, and the mechanics of sexual congress, but Analise had no practical experience.

One correct peck from Mr. Entwhistle didn’t count.

When Martha was first married, her sister felt the need to apprise her of everything, incorrectly assuming it might make Analise curious enough to put aside her magnifying glass and tweezers.

A gentle hum flowed over her shoulders, prickling her skin. The flick of his tongue along the seam of her mouth, had Analise gasping. The tips of her breasts, tight with the chill and so sensitive, pushed at his naked chest. She grew warm in a way she had never been before.

Her hands slid over his torso, the beat of his heart strong beneath her palms. The scent of lake water caught in her nostrils along with something spicy she suspected belonged to him alone.

Shaving soap, maybe. Mouth slanting more fully over hers, Finley nipped gently at her bottom lip. Coaxing her to open for him.

Analise sighed, sinking into him, his tongue swirling around hers.

One hand spread over her spine, forcing her to arch more fully into him.

Finley pulled her into his lap, lightly touching her thighs until she straddled him.

A low rumble of pure male satisfaction from his chest had her palms vibrating.

Surprise filled her. Awe.

Analise, for the first time in her life, felt… desired .

Finley pulled back, just a space, studying Analise as if she were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. There were bits of gold floating in his dark eyes, along with a great deal of…heat.

Her heart thumped in her chest. The press of something hard and solid burned into her thigh. Glancing a look down, she swallowed at the way his trousers had tightened.

Goodness.

“See something of interest, Miss Peregrine?”

Analise’s breath caught. She pushed off his chest suddenly aware of being on his lap with…parts of the male anatomy pressing against her. Things had never progressed as far with Mr. Entwhistle. Never beyond a kiss.

“Merely scientific curiosity,” she replied with a sniff.

The charming half-smile reappeared once more. “I won’t apologize.” His eyes followed her as she slid off his lap.

“I didn’t ask you to.” She was dizzy from that magnificent kiss.

Finley cocked his head, gaze lingering over her mouth once more. “I’ve had more than a few erotic experiences in my life.” He inched closer. “But I wouldn’t have guessed a ladybird being plucked from my toe would be one.” His forefinger gently glided up and down her arm.

“I didn’t even touch you.” Analise sounded rather…breathless. “I used tweezers.”

“Even so. You’ve already mentioned you like my feet.” He wiggled his toes at her. “They are nice, if I say so myself. Worth your study, I think. Or whatever your nefarious intentions towards me.”

“Nefarious?” Analise wanted to laugh.

Finley shrugged.

“Are you suggesting that…removing a ladybird from your foot, with tweezers, is tantamount to seduction?”

“Anything is possible. Perhaps it is a trick used by entomologists the world over.” The muscles along his arms flexed as he leaned towards Analise.

Good God he was glorious. And he’d kissed her .

“How do I know,” he said in mock outrage, “this isn’t what you do while in London, Miss Peregrine. Stalk gentlemen through gardens plucking insects off them as a method of seduction.”

“Hardly.” Analise choked. “First, I do not stalk gentlemen, nor do they stalk me. And secondly, I have only used my tweezers on one other.”

“I was not your first?” The innuendo sat between them. “I’m disappointed.”

Was he…flirting with her?

He did kiss you, Analise, flirtation is not out of the question.

“I once had a…brief fondness for a gentleman in my first Season.” Her only Season, but that wasn’t important.

“He invited me for a stroll in the garden. A lucanus cervus landed on his shoulder.” Until today, Analise hadn’t thought much about Mr. Entwhistle, though his rejection of her still stung.

She’d thought he understood her. Would ask Father for her hand.

“Stop hurling Latin at me. I’ve already said it was not my best subject.” The pads of Finley’s fingers dragged slowly along her skin.

Strange, he’d said as much before, which made Analise wonder just how much formal education a man who trained horses might require. Certainly not Latin.

“A stag beetle,” she returned crisply, “for those that do not care for Latin.” Analise attempted to keep her voice steady as the same fingers moved to explore the curve of her knee. “Stop that. Pay attention.”

Finley’s eyes snapped to her mouth once more. “You sound like a governess I once…well, it doesn’t signify.” The warmth of his palm stretched over her thigh, fingers tightening. “I beg you. Chastise me further.”

“It was not meant as encouragement.”

“Pity.”

“I retrieved the stag beetle,” she said, wishing he would kiss her again.

“But unlike you, Mr. Entwhistle did not find my tweezers to be the least erotic. He declared me to be far too…bookish and eccentric. He voiced those same concerns to my father, which sufficiently ended our incredibly brief courtship.” Mr. Entwhistle had been rather unkind in his description of Analise’s less than desirable traits. The entire incident was embarrassing.

“You were too intelligent for this Mr. Entwhistle and he knew it.” Finley cupped her cheek. “I would venture you are smarter than I am as well.”

The warmth along her skin reached her heart. Her entire family insisted Analise was far too intelligent for her own good. Martha had even suggested she be more of a peahen to attract a husband. “You don’t mind an educated woman?”

“I prefer them. Good God, who wants to wed an idiot?” Finley’s lips brushed hers, eliciting a soft sound from Analise. “I prefer not to.”

An opinion not many shared. There was a reason she remained unmarried.

He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. Then another.

Her back arched against the trunk of the tree and Finley followed, grazing his teeth along the column of her neck and lingering beneath her ear.

Analise’s nerves lit up. She pushed herself further into the warm muscles of his chest, feeling them move against her skin. Her purpose today, her research, was forgotten. And what about Finley’s duties?

“Don’t you…have to return…to…well, somewhere?” Her breath came out in short bursts, at the touch of his palm settling on her abdomen. “Surely you cannot spend the entire day from your duties. Won’t Lord Tenburgh be angry?”

“I doubt it.” He said before once more capturing her lips. This kiss was different. Sinful, if she were being honest. Promising an entire host of things Analise could only imagine because she was still a maid. But perhaps, she might not need to be.

Analise, have you gone mad?

His fingers, long and elegant— shouldn’t his hand be rough if he works with horses? —stroked gently between her thighs, teasing at her skin beneath the fabric of her trousers. She should be doing field work not…allowing a man she had only just met touch her in such an intimate fashion.

Oh, really, Analise. What are you saving yourself for?

What indeed? She was an aging spinster who lived with her sister. A scientist. A bluestocking. The gentlemen of London weren’t beating a path to her door. Nor did she have time, with her work, for a true courtship even if they had.

Finley continued to tease her through the damp fabric of her trousers, stroking up and down until she grabbed at his shoulder. “Shall I stop, Miss Peregrine?”

“No,” she whispered. Her mind stuttering at the feel of his fingers loosening the belt of her trousers. Mind made up, Analise barely spared a thought for her psyllobora vigintiduopunctata awaiting her in the interior of the island.

When those clever fingers drifted gently through the tuft of hair covering her mound, Analise moaned. “Finley.”

“Yes, Miss Peregrine.”

“I—” Pleasure hovered in the air, but Analise didn’t know how to ask for it.

He trailed a finger along her crease, moving slowly back and forth, gently touching that sensitive spot at the top. “Have you ever pleasured yourself, Miss Peregrine?” The sharp sting of his teeth along her neck had a hiss leave her.

“I have studied human anatomy and… oh good lord ,” she choked as two fingers dipped inside her.

“That isn’t exactly,” he breathed along the curve of her ear, “what I meant.”

Analise knew bloody well what he meant, but it wasn’t something she wanted to discuss considering his hand was now wedged between her thighs doing the most— a roll of pleasure stole her breath —incredible things to her person.

Finley’s mouth turned savage, ravaging her lips while his fingers continued stoking that blissful sensation flaring to life inside her. All those delicious, warm muscles curled around Analise, holding her to him.

She moaned into his mouth as the pleasure pushed harder and higher. Threading her fingers through his hair, the ends still damp from the lake, she thrust her hips more fully into his hand. Her heels dug into the pebbles beneath her feet, kicking a few into the fire.

“Oh, right there, Miss Peregrine.” His thumb flicked over that tiny, sensitive button— that’s what Martha called it, a button, which was a stupid name. The proper anatomical term in Latin —

A rush of sensation had her legs trembling.

Her thoughts, usually so clear, went suddenly quiet.

Her body grew taut, held aloft before a wave of intense pleasure crashed over her.

Far more different than anything Analise had ever managed on her own.

Pressing his forehead to hers, those lovely dark eyes never left Analise as she writhed in his arms. Another psyllobora vigintiduopunctata landed on Finley’s shoulder.

That was her last coherent thought before her eyes fluttered shut.

Oh, goodness.

When at last she opened her eyes once more, commanding her heart to slow its uneven rhythm, Finley was watching her, his hand possessively cupping her sex.

“You are,” he stretched his fingers, sending a flutter along the lower half of her body, “rather exquisite, Miss Peregrine.”

Not beautiful. Pretty. Horribly bookish. But exquisite .

“That is the best compliment I have ever received,” Analise whispered, trying not to be mortified that she’d just—

“Don’t.” Finley rubbed his nose along hers. “We want each other.” He sounded very matter of fact as he reluctantly removed his hand. “And I wasn’t going to be able to not touch you, Miss Peregrine, not after you brazenly caressed my foot.”

“I was extracting a specimen.”

“Seductively.” He kissed the tip of her nose.