Free Every Girl's Secret Fantasy by Robyn Grady Page B

dream of?”
    A faint vee formed between her brows before she opened her eyes and smiled cryptically. “The usual things little girls dream of.”
    Close by, Hannie snapped out a clatter of sharp and rapid yaps before streaking off again into the distant wood.
    â€œRabbits,” Phoebe explained. “They drive him nuts—not that he catches any. When he’s had enough, he knows his way home.” She took a sip, watching him over the rim of her cup. “What about you? Do your parents live in Sydney?”
    Pace lowered his cup. “My mother died when I was twelve,” he said. “My father when I was twenty-five. A heart attack. My brother and his fiancée live in Sydney.”
    â€œI’m sorry about your parents,” she murmured, hervoice full of understanding. Then she angled her head. “You always seemed like such a mystery to me.”
    â€œMaybe because you were so busy running the other way.”
    â€œI’m not running now.”
    She held his gaze with hers and the air simmered between them. Drawn to her like never before, Pace was about to lean closer when she dropped her eyes and rummaged through the hamper.
    The pie was delicious, sweet and filling. The cocoa too. But the air was cooling by degrees now. Pace thought they ought to head back to her cottage soon. Light a fire. Maybe stay the night. And, remarkably, his reasoning wasn’t about sex. Not entirely.
    He could do the drive back to Sydney, certainly. He’d thought she’d want him to. But after learning about her mother and how she’d died, taking a break from the road until morning might be best.
    When he’d finished eating, Pace put his plate in the hamper. Phoebe leaned in at the same time. Their hands brushed and, like a lightning flash, the chemistry that drew them together and fought to hold them there flared up again. Feeling the jolt, too, Phoebe darted her gaze to his.
    But his eyes had drifted to her mouth, to the succulent pink bow and the lone pastry crumb that sat, enticing him, on her lower lip.
    He didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate. Acting on instinct, he simply leaned in, cupped her head, and plucked that crumb from her lips with his own.
    Â 
    A shiver of anticipation whirled through Phoebe’s centre as Pace’s mouth touched hers. A knot of hotneed swelled in her throat when, feather-light, their lips touched again, this time lingering. Her eyes drifted shut and a firestorm swept over her skin at the same time as bands of heat coiled and tightened around her core. When a tiny blissful sigh escaped her throat his arm went around her to draw her wonderfully close.
    Like a length of warm wax her body moulded to his as a crooked finger tilted her chin higher, angling her face so that his mouth hovered a heady whisper away from hers. Testing, he gently rimmed her lips with the tip of his tongue—first one way, then the other. Disbelieving that an act so simple, so mild, could wind her up so tight, Phoebe gave in to the burn—gave in to it all—and wove her arms around his strong neck.
    He kissed her deeply. Thoroughly. Her entire being seemed to shut down before an explosion detonated deep inside and her heart swelled under a rapid rush of blood. She felt exhilarated. Alive. As if she’d sprinted up ten flights of stairs with weights on her belt and angel’s wings on her feet. She savoured the flavour of apple and creamy chocolate.
    How would the rest of him taste?
    His hand slid from the back of her neck down her spine, until his thumb found and rubbed that low, sensitive dip. Swept further away, she cupped his jaw and pressed her sensitive breasts against his chest. As the kiss deepened more he eased her back and onto the blanket, tangled in each other’s limbs. His hand trailed down the outside of her smooth leg, then back up, towing material along in its wake.
    Her fingers flexed through his hair, urging him closer as she arched up.