Page 90 of A Lady’s Guide to Subterfuge and Science

She refused to be dazzled by him. “Is something funny?”

He shook his head. “It’s—you’re so passionate about all this, Kalila. It’s very—charming.”

“Charming?” she huffed. “That is not my intention, I assure you.”

“I don’t think you can help it,” he said, twinkling at her in amusement.

“I notice you didn’t answer my question.” Kalila sniffed in disdain. “Why don’t you grace me with your theories as to which—”

“Here’s a theory,” he interrupted, his words tumbling out. “I think I might fall in love with you.”

The sudden silence in the room could have been cut with a knife. Kalila blinked in shock as Oliver fixed her with a pointed, serious look. He appeared rather grim, she thought, so she must have heard him incorrectly.

“I beg your pardon?” she squeaked.

“Apologies,” he said, and for a moment she wondered if she had, in fact, misheard. He cleared his throat before repeating, “I think I might fall in love with you.”

Kalila’s mouth went dry. “W-what? You—”

“And I’d really like to know if there’s any hope for me,” he said, his expression morphing into something a touch desperate. “We agreed to be honest with one another, and so here I am. Being honest.”

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. “Hope?”

He inched closer, taking one of her hands in his. His other hand found its way to her chin, and he tilted her head so she was forced to meet his gaze. “That you might fall in love with me,” he said, his voice equal parts soft and graveled. “Because if there isn’t, then we likely have a problem.”

Kalila stared into his eyes, so gentle and eager and kind. Even as her heart swelled with exquisite pain, her mind raced to try to place what she’d done to deserve this. She wasn’t the sort to have men prostrate themselves before her and speak of love. Any conversations she’d had in the past that likely should have had a romantic bent had instead been rather cut-and-dry. But this was something different, something unrecognizable and new.

“I’d never stifle you,” he said, his thumb tracing her sharp jawline, “if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Oliver—”

“You said we ought to tell each other if things change.”

“But that was for me,” she blurted out, pressing her fingers into his palm. “Not for you. I thought I was the one who would develop—Oliver, you are the marriage averse one of us.”

“So are you, technically.”

Kalila bit her lip, knowing full well that she’d made her stance on the issue quite clear. She swallowed a sigh, wishing that they could return to scientific theory. That, at the very least, was simple.

“No matter,” she said. She made to pull her hand away from his, but his grip tightened and she found herself trapped. “It would never work. If we were to be together, I’d have to watch you move forward as a scientist. And I’d resent you for it. Even if I do end up—”

Before she could finish making her argument, Oliver tugged her forward, silencing her with the most devastating kiss she’d ever received. Her defenses melted away, as they seemed to do any time he was by her side. Without thinking, she wound her arms around his neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. He sighed, his hands sliding down her back before settling at her waist. He continued to pull her forward until she straddled him, the growing evidence of his arousal brushing against her trousers.

“Oliver,” she panted, breaking apart from him, “we haven’t finished—”

“Later,” he rasped. He cupped her face, thumbs stroking her cheekbones. “Is later acceptable?”

She paused to consider his question, despite her body having already decided the answer for her. A tightness coiled in her belly, and she felt the tell-tale tingle of excitement at her core. When her eyes met his, the sensations heightened, joined only by a painful tug somewhere in the recesses of her heart.

They needed to talk, but she also needed this. She needed the day to end this way, if only to dampen the misery of losing her work. While it could end with a difficult conversation, she reasoned, it could also end with—

“Stop thinking,” he admonished, running a hand through her short hair.

“You asked me a question,” she whispered. “I’m simply thinking of the best way to respond.”

A corner of his mouth hiked up in his trademark smile. “And was it such a difficult question?”

“I’m only trying to think of the most sensible answer,” she replied, suppressing the urge to push against him to relieve the ache between her legs.