Page 65 of The Duchess’ Little Miracle

“This...” he whispered against her skin. “...is a kiss.”

Then, his mouth came down on hers.

Any lingering thought of logic, reason, or detachment shattered into a million invisible pieces.

His kiss was a fierce, commanding, overwhelmingly passionate collision that swept through Seraphina’s entire nervous system like wildfire. His grip on her waist tightened, pulling her so close she could feel the beating of his own heart against her chest. His hand at the back of her head anchored her to him, his fingers digging gently into her hair, holding her right where he wanted her.

A soft, helpless sound escaped the back of Seraphina’s throat as his lips parted hers, taking the kiss deeper. The sensation was so intoxicating, it made her knees feel entirely like water. Instinct took over, completely overwhelming her intellect. Her hands, which had been meant to push him away, instead flew to the lapels of his shirt, gripping the fabric for dear life as if he were the only grounded object in a world spinning rapidly off its axis.

He shifted his weight, walking her backward with slow steps until her back bumped softly against the wall. His hand shifted to cushion the back of her head against the hard surface, protecting her even in the midst of his absolute storm.

There was a contrast to it. The chill of the wall at her back, the searing, magnificent heat of his body pressed against hers, sent a shiver cascading down her spine. Her senses were completely overwhelmed. She tasted the rich smokiness of his drink, heard the low, ragged breath he drew as she began to kiss him back, abandoning all pretense of restraint.

It was a fire, wild and uncontained, consuming every rational thought she had ever possessed. It opened up a vast, terrifying abyss of curiosity within her, a hunger not for books, or theories, or knowledge, but for... him. For the touch of his hands, the weight of his body, the feeling of his lips on hers.

The sensation built and built, a tight, electric coil winding in the center of her chest until her entire body began to tremble.

Panicked by the overwhelming intensity, Seraphina forced her hands flat against his chest, pushing against him with all the strength she possessed.

“William...” she managed to gasp out against his lips.

William paused instantly.

He didn’t pull away far. His hand slid from the back of her head down to her chin, his thumb gently holding her face in place. As she pulled her head back, his tongue lightly grazed the curve of her bottom lip, a final, agonizingly sweet contact that sent a fresh wave of butterflies frantic in her stomach.

He stayed right there, hovering inches above her, his eyes staring intently down at her parted lips.

Seraphina ducked under his arm, stepping swiftly to the side to put physical distance between them. She backed away until the far side of the desk blocked him from her path, her hands coming up to cover her chest as she drew in gulps of air.

She felt dizzy, lightheaded, as if the air in the room had been stripped of oxygen. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably.

William didn’t move for a long moment. He stood by the wall, his hair delightfully rumpled where her fingers had tangled in it. Slowly, he reached down, adjusting the front of his shirt and smoothing down his sleeves.

‘We shouldn’t have done that,’ Seraphina’s mind screamed into the silence. ‘Dear God, we shouldn’t have done that.’

It hadn’t proved he was wrong. It hadn’t proved she was in control. It had proved, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that a dangerous fire existed between them, one that threatened to burn their neat, transactional agreement to absolute cinders.

She needed to run. She needed to escape to the safety of her bedchamber and spend the rest of the night trying to logically dissect the terrifying earthquake that had just shattered her foundation.

She turned toward the door, trying to make her escape.

Then, she froze.

She couldn’t leave. Not like this. She had come down those stairs with a purpose. If she fled now, she was admitting defeat. She was letting him win.

Seraphina took one more long, shaky breath, smoothing her hands over her gown before turning back to face him. Her voice was still slightly breathless, her pitch uneven, but she forced the words out into the room.

“Alice is speaking,” she said.

William, who had walked back toward his desk, paused. He looked up at her, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion. “What?”

“Alice,” Seraphina repeated, taking a small step forward, clutching her hands tightly together to hide their trembling. “She is speaking. Not just single words or nods. She is speaking in full sentences. Real... real conversations.”

William stood still for a moment, letting the words settle between them. Slowly, he pulled out his chair and sat down, resting his elbows on the desk. She could see the slight rise and fall of his shoulders. He, too, was still trying to catch his breath, his eyes unusually bright in the dim light.

“That is... that is wonderful, Seraphina,” he said softly.

“Yes,” she panted lightly, resting her hand against her stomach. “Also... did you know? Did you know she was the one who found her mother’s body when she passed?”