A kiss like no other
Winterbrook leaned forward slightly, then bent his head and pressed his lips to the center of Madeline’s forehead. It was the touch of the moment, as soft as the brush of a butterfly’s wing. A second later, he repeated the action, this time on her right temple. The fluttering in her stomach returned, rather like dozens of butterflies had suddenly found themselves there and burst into flight. Her heart was similarly affected. Or afflicted. If she’d ever know that a kiss could be so pleasant, the knowledge had been driven from her mind. Now, she would never forget. Indeed, she would probably remember this one until her dying day—and it had not even been a real kiss!
If ever Mr. Winterbrook truly kissed her, she might well swoon.