"We'll try again tomorrow," I say to Eros as his disappointment in the bunnies not bonding yet is palpable.

We've put the animals back in their separate pens, but next to each other so they can still get used to the sight without being able to attack.

"It's almost as difficult as humans," he mutters, and I give him a questioning look. He clears his throat. "I mean, I guess it's like finding a match for humans. You can't just pick the first person off the street, right?"

"That's true." I smile as I pick my wine glass up from the counter and take a sip. "Some bunnies never bond, but hopefully that's not the case with these two. It's sometimes a long, slow process and we just have to take our time."

"I'm not always the most patient person," he admits with a wry smile that's oddly endearing. "Sometimes I just want to see immediate results. I've learned that doesn't always happen though."

"Rarely does." Putting my wine glass back down, I watch him where he's still on the floor by the rabbit pens, stroking Leonard's head. I've been here for a good two hours now without him doing more than giving me a quick—almost chaste—kiss when I first arrived, and I'm a little disappointed. And very confused. I thought we did so well last weekend. What about his hand on my thigh in the pool? Was that just a happy accident?

"So..." I jump up on the counter separating the kitchen from the living room to sit next to my wine glass, my legs over the edge. "Tell me something about yourself. I realize I know very little about you." Other than what a great kisser you are.

"There's not much to tell." He gives a last stroke to Leonard before standing. When he sees me on the counter, he stills for a moment, and I worry that I've done something wrong. I've noticed he's a bit of a neat freak—or at least was before the bunnies took over his home—and maybe my butt on his clean counter is a big no-no. "What do you want to know?"

I dangle my feet as I debate my options. There's no way I'm wasting this opportunity to ask questions. I take another sip of wine. "Oh, do you have any family?"

"In a sense." He's still standing in the middle of the living room, the look on his face as he watches me unreadable. "I have a large extended family, but no close relatives."

"Oh, that must suck." I consider myself quite close to my family, and I can't imagine what it would be like not to have your parents or any siblings. "I have a brother and a sister. They're annoying, but I love them."

"Siblings are like that. I guess I consider some of my brethren my brothers," he muses, as he takes a rather large gulp of wine. His brethren? "There's always fierce competition between us, and lately I've been failing. The pressure can be enormous."

"It's difficult to perform to the standards your family wishes of you." I nod. "My parents wanted me to be a doctor, and here I am, a lowly veterinarian."

"When it's your calling, you know." He finishes the rest of his wine before looking at me again. "And there's nothing lowly about veterinarians."

I smile at the sincerity in his voice. "I know, and I don't actually think so. Just trying to explain my parents' feelings about it. Pretty much everyone else in my family is a doctor. It's difficult breaking the mold."

"No one wants you to be different," he agrees. "They just want you to keep doing exactly what you've always done. What everyone has always done."

It makes me ridiculously happy that he seems to understand what I'm saying. I love my family, but I've always felt a little like I disappointed them by becoming a veterinarian instead of a doctor. I try to think of another question while he's being this forthcoming—potentially aided by the wine. My mouth speaks before my brain has time to think of something, in typical Penelope-fashion.

"You've confused me again."

He raises an eyebrow that is surprisingly dark compared to his blond hair, and I curse my mouth for always saying things aloud instead of giving me time to phrase it in a better way. Or just... not say it to begin with. This, however, is something I seem incapable of.

I look down at my wine glass as I trace its rim with my fingertip. "You haven't kissed me tonight."

There's a moment's silence and I glance up to see his blue eyes watching me intently, a dark fire burning inside that ignites my own.

"I—" He raises a hand to rake it through his hair, making it stand on end. "I didn't want to be presumptuous."

"If we're dating, I think it's okay to presume we can kiss." Is he as bad at dating as I am? It seems impossible for someone with his good looks. The mere thought of kissing him again makes me wet my lips, and I can see his eyes follow the movement.

"Makes sense." He takes the steps separating us, coming to stand between my knees, his face in front of mine. He's tall, and this position has us at eye level. A rarity for me, since I'm not exactly known for my towering height.

"You know, most guys would have pushed for a lot more than a kiss," I breathe, my body reacting to his presence even if the only touching we're currently doing is my knees at his waist. "And here you are... hesitating to even do that."

He bites his lower lip as he ponders my statement, and it's so sexy I think I might burst if he doesn't kiss me soon. "I guess I'm rusty on hu—on dating. I've never really dated."

His confession surprises me, and I'm probably staring with my mouth ajar again. So sexy. "You're not a..." I trail off, unable to say it because it seems impossible.

He takes a moment to understand what I'm trying to say and when he does he bursts into laughter, a happy, rumbling sound that washes over me like a warm ocean wave. "No," he says, still grinning. "No, I have plenty of... experience. I've just never been much of a dater."

"So, no serious relationships?" It's a bad sign, but not overly surprising. He wouldn't be the first handsome guy who didn't want to be locked down. A player. I should know better than to mess around with a player.

"No, I've always been too busy with work." He lifts his hand to smooth back a strand of hair behind my ear, and when his knuckles brush against my cheek, I have to remind myself to keep breathing. His hand remains at the side of my head as he twirls a lock of hair between his fingers. "Is that a problem?"

"It does kind of scream commitment issues," I admit. "But it's not like we've defined this. I'm happy to keep it casual if that's what you want."

"Casual." He says the word as if he's testing it out, trying to figure out its exact meaning. Who is this guy? His eyes lock with mine and he puts his other hand at my waist. How is it that he's always so warm? The heat coming off him makes me think of him as a portable furnace. "I don't know. Whatever you want."

Whatever I want? Right now, all I can think about is getting his mouth on me. Finding him this attractive is not very conducive to thinking clearly. I place my hands on his chest, and I can't help but marvel at how solid it is. He's watching me silently as if waiting to see what my next move is and, emboldened, I move my hands down his flat stomach and back up again. I'm not disappointed. Not even close. I slide my hands around his neck to bury in the soft hair at the back of his neck. When I tug a little, he quickly takes the hint, bending his head and capturing my lips.

My world is on fire as he kisses me deeply, and I'm nothing if not an enthusiastic participant. His hands slide around to cup my bottom, pulling me closer to the edge of the counter, and I automatically wrap my legs around his waist as we continue kissing, touching. He might be rusty on dating, but there's no skill lacking in this. Every touch, every caress, every stroke of his tongue makes me only want more. I can't get enough of this man.

If I worried that not immediately kissing me meant he wasn't interested, I can rest easy as I can tell with no uncertainty that he's definitely into this as the evidence of his desire presses against me. A moment later both of our shirts are on the floor and I run my hands down along his chest again, enjoying the feeling of his muscles tightening below my fingertips. His skin is warm and soft, an intriguing contrast to the hard muscles underneath.

"You're always hot," I whisper as he drags his lips across my neck.

"Thank you. You're hot too," he mumbles against my skin and I giggle.

"No, I mean... You're always so warm. I'm forever freezing and it's just amazing to me that you're always this source of heat."

He lifts his head from where he's nipping at the skin on my shoulder, looking thoughtful. "I don't think I've ever felt cold. I guess I'm just inherently warm."

"I'm not complaining. You can keep me warm." I press myself against him, reveling in his heated skin against mine, cooled by the air.

"Happy to," he says as he captures my mouth in a searing kiss.