Every Girl's Secret Fantasy (8 page)

She tried to come up with a plan, but there was only one that she half liked. If he wanted a kiss, she'd give him one to remember.

Wishing she felt as confident as she had moments ago, she lowered her head and let her mouth hover for a titillating moment above his. Then she grazed her lips over his chin, his raspy jaw. A flurry of heightened sensation flew through her middle and she swallowed a breath, enjoying the sizzling aftershock to her core. She waited for his reaction…waited for his mouth to reach up and unreservedly claim hers. Instead, he nipped her, gently imprisoning her bottom lip between his teeth.

She yelped—out of shock, not pain. But then his tongue started to move, stroking the wet sweep of her lower lip, laving its sensitive mound, and darkest pleasure rolled through her like the lethal shadow of a gathering wave. Eyes drifting shut again, she quivered out an involuntary sigh and helpless, trembling, waited for his next move.

First his head angled, gifting barely-there kisses to her chin. Then his mouth deliberately closed over hers, his day-old growth grazing languidly back and forth against the edge of her jaw as he drew her in. Her every thought, every memory, every doubt, lifted and drifted far away.

His tongue swept inside her mouth, running over its roof, exploring its unabashed welcome. And then he wasn't kissing her any more.
She
was kissing
him
. Kissing him with everything she had and wanted to
give. The feeling spiralled until she couldn't siphon in enough air. Could this possibly get any better?

As her free hand traced the line and movement of his working jaw, the aching burn, low and deep inside her, intensified. The sensation was surreal. A completely different plane. Her system surged with a series of dark-light, sharp-soft, tender-deep thrills. It was eternal. It was time standing still.

And just imagine when they finally made love…

When Pace gently broke the kiss a little of the tension leaked out of her. But as their lips parted Phoebe didn't open her eyes. This break was to catch their breath, to refuel their engines before the finale. Then she was going back to kiss him again.

Going back for more.

His laugh—a low, devilish sound—froze Phoebe's thoughts. When he laughed again her eyes sprang open, and her blood warmed with a different kind of heat. The realisation was as profound as a mountain toppling, a tidal wave crashing, and as the understanding compounded her stomach looped into a thousand knots. He was
laughing
at her. Laughing at how easily he'd taken control.

But at this point did it matter? This coming-apart-at-the-seams scenario was precisely what she'd wanted. She might have lost control, but wasn't that a good thing? The outcome she'd been hoping for?

Feeling somewhat pleased with herself, she fought the urge to lick her lips. “Well, was that kiss enough for you?”

“Oh, yeah.” His smile shone. “That was definitely kiss enough.”

“Now that's settled, would you kindly keep your end of the bargain and release my arm?”

He raised a brow. “I don't think so. I like you where you are.”

She frowned. “But you said—”

“I lied.”

“That's not fair!”

“I suppose it isn't. But then neither is you tying me up.” He grinned crookedly. “Not that I mind.”

She nibbled her bottom lip. “I suppose you want an explanation?” About the strip, about the tying up.

“That would be nice, but not necessary.”

“On our way back this afternoon,” she began, before she could chicken out, “I made up my mind to—”

“To find your ‘Mr Right Now'?”

Her mouth fell open. “How did you—?”

His voice lowered. “Phoebe, I saw your list.”

A fire lit in her chest and swept up her neck and over her cheeks. She could easily have been embarrassed into her next lifetime, but now she had other priorities—like saving her fingers before they dropped off from lack of circulation.

“Can we please continue this conversation after you get off my arm?”

“So you can leave me here like this?” He shook his head.

She huffed out a breath. Time to point out the obvious. “Either you shift and free me, or we stay here, like this, all night.”

“You've had your fun, Phoebe.” His face and tone darkened. “Now it's time I had mine.”

She was about to point out his prostrate manacled
position. She might not be in charge, but neither, exactly, was he. Then she felt his biceps strain, his chest expand.

A second later the tie's stitching ripped apart.

R
ELISHING
the startled look on Phoebe's face, Pace focused his energy on snapping what remained of his silk chain. Adrenaline pumping, he stored some oxygen, clenched his teeth and
pulled
.

His hands flew forward and apart. Continuing the movement, he looped his arms over Phoebe's head. After she'd wriggled her arm free from under his back he tugged her relentlessly close, openly smiling at her wide-eyed surprise. He hadn't spoilt her fun. He'd merely spiced it up.

“You'd like to say something?” he asked.

Phoebe barely managed a squeak. With an exaggerated hug that flattened her chest snug against his, he glanced around the room, as if they were a couple about to christen their new home.

“Yes, indeed.” He exhaled heartily. “This sure is cosy.”

He heard her swallow. “Pace…you can let me up now.”

He grinned. Not a chance.

Seemed she'd decided to go through with taking care of her wish list after all. Oh, she'd had him fuddled for a while, not knowing if he were coming or going, when
she'd teased him under that tree and then later in the doorway. But there was no misunderstanding this time. With this scintillating bump and grind routine she'd let him know precisely what she had in mind, and he would do everything within his power to help her out.

But when he angled up to kiss her again she broke free and scrambled off the couch. Her chest rose and fell as she tried to catch her runaway breath. Beneath the black lace bra her nipples called to him, dark and deliciously beaded.

“This isn't…isn't what I planned,” she panted.

He sent her a lopsided grin. “Nothing beats a good surprise.”

He slid to his feet and moved towards her with an intentionally predatory gait. He didn't give her time to think or back out. He brought her into the merciless circle of his arms and kissed her—hard, without apology—precisely the way she wanted him.

The moment his mouth took hers, she surrendered, quivering delectably against him. Several heady heartbeats later she rose up on her toes and returned his passion, stroke for blessed stroke. Her tongue parried with his as her fingers drew up over his shoulders, up through his hair. With her breasts pushed against his chest, he felt her heart beating a million to one.

Her skin felt on fire…her back, waist, the amazing curve of her hips. Without breaking mouth-to-mouth contact, Pace scooped her up off the floor and into his arms, then moved a few blind steps to the rug. There he carefully laid her down and then, taking a moment, drew slightly away.

The rug was a snowy aura surrounding her gloriously tight body. Her smile was dreamy and her eyes
were dark, slumberous and wanting. When she reached to trace the line bracketing his mouth, he pressed his lips to her palm and buried his face in the sweet berry fragrance of her hair.

A pulse drummed at the side of her throat. His lips brushed its fluttering beat, and that drugging sensation heightened, driving white-hot flames through his blood. He needed to touch her—everywhere and all at once. He wanted to take her to the ultimate, unbearable brink and have her teeter there for as long as humanly possible. More than anything he wanted to show her how good it could be.

What making love was all about.

He manoeuvred out of his jeans, his shirt, then joined her again, lying front to front. She at once coiled a silky thigh over his hip. When her hand found his erection, as if waving a wand she turned solid rock into a span of high-tensile steel. In the fireglow he slipped down one bra strap, his touch sculpting down to expose her breast. After his thumb grazed and teased its tip, he lowered his head and drew her deep into his mouth.

With his tongue circling the peak, he groaned out his pleasure while Phoebe gripped his shoulder and snatched in a lung full of air. When his tongue flicked back and forth, then circled again, she arched against him, holding on with an intensity that ended with beads of sweat breaking free at his every pore.

Amazing that through that heavy haze of arousal he remembered to be responsible. Feeling around, he found his discarded jeans and a condom in the back pocket. Shifting his mouth from one breast to the perfect other, he extracted the rubber and rolled the protection on. Then he moved back up to meet her mouth, kissing her
with an incontestable force as his fingers slid down her flat tummy, beneath her panties, and through the satin tangle at the apex of her thighs. When she shuddered out a rapt sigh, his touch slid further and curled inside.

His erection shuddered and hardened more.

She was so warm and wet and gloriously ready.

His blood on fire, he snatched several hungry kisses from her lips, her chin, then pressed his hips in against hers, imagining the moment of ecstasy when her inner walls would contract around more than his finger. His breath laboured, he tasted a seductive line down the curve of her throat while adjusting his stroke to draw a moist, slow circle around the nub at the top of her sex. She shivered violently. He grinned against her throat and circled again.

When her pelvis began to rotate against the movements of his hand, fresh dampness broke down the line of his back. His throat thick with want, he dragged her lace panties down to the knee, then whipped them completely off. His mouth found her breast again and he matched the rhythm of his swirling tongue with his concentrated caressing down below. When he applied a slip more pressure to both place, her body jerked up, lifting higher…higher…before she tensed.

He felt every string in her body stretched tight. Sensed her every fibre on the brink and aching for release. Gently he tugged at her nipple with his teeth and lightly pinched her most sensitive spot, then pinched and tugged a little harder…a little faster. When he drew the bud of her breast deeply into his mouth she gasped, grabbed his head and his hand and, groaning out his name, held on tight.

Pressing up, she convulsed countless sublime times. Every muscle braced, he held on to her, caressing her, murmuring her name as she rocked against him, gripping the rug with one hand and his arm with the other. Still in the throes, she rolled her head from one side to the other as the waves washed on.

Gradually the tremors ebbed. Her sighs were long and satisfied, and as she dragged the damp hair from her brow and floated down from her rise Pace eased himself over and on top. He murmured against the shell of her ear and pushed carefully, needfully inside. As his length filled her a hot rush of pleasure swept over his skin and a barrage of burning arrows shot to his groin. She felt so soft and tight and infinitely feminine.

Losing himself to sensation, he closed his eyes and curled his arms around her head. Nuzzling against her temple, he worked his way in and blissfully out, repeating the action until the rhythm left his mind exquisitely blank to anything other than her body joined with his.

Groaning low in his throat, he held her closer.

All he could think of…all he wanted…was Phoebe.

Her nails trailed up the sides of his back, leaving tracks of goosebumps as they curved around his shoulders, then clawed lightly like a kneading kitten at his chest. When he set his teeth and thrust in to the hilt she arced up, drinking from his lips while he kissed her back, heart and soul. He gripped her hip, fastened her calf over his thigh, then thrust again and again until his scalp tingled and the urge to unload was more powerful and wild than a stampede of stallions.

She whispered in his ear, dug her heel into his thigh.
Her parted lips traced up his damp throat, and as her hot breath teased his skin her teeth grazed and nipped his jaw.

Enough.

An almighty thunderbolt cracked. He clenched down, cupped her face, and kissed her mindlessly while he spasmed and found his own sweet release.

 

Early the next morning Phoebe woke with a start and a thrilling flash from the night before. She remembered lovemaking that had gone on into the early hours. She remembered tender words and the thrilling way Pace had brought her to climax again and again. Now all she wanted was to relive those wild, mindless moments. Tingling all over, dying to see his face, she carefully rolled onto her side.

Before they'd fallen asleep in each other's arms Pace had recovered from her loft a quilt and pillows. Asleep beside her, now Pace began to stir. Quietly propping up on an elbow she drank in his profile—sweeping dark lashes, strong straight nose, that full bottom lip she'd kissed and kissed but could never get enough of. That inky-black hair and bronzed super-toned body…

At this moment, asleep, Pace was more dazzling and desirable than he'd ever been before.

The fireplace was a bed of cold ash where earlier it had burned like a veritable inferno. Never in her life had she known a more consuming heat. Never had she enjoyed a more feverish time. Making love to Pace was everything she'd hoped it would be. Everything and more.

After all the angst and doubt she'd finally discovered it was true. Multiple fireworks
could
explode
when a woman made love with the right man. Not just fireworks. The entire world had ceased to exist. She wouldn't have cared if plum-sized diamonds had begun to fall from the sky. What she and Pace had shared last night was all-consuming. So strong, so intense, the sensations and emotions he'd brought out in her were the most achingly beautiful she'd ever known.

Now the workings of her body hummed and heated anew, begging her to be selfish, to reach out and touch him…wake him. As her gaze roamed his bare shoulder and strong corded arm, her lips burned to brush the hollow of his throat and kiss a slow, blissful line from his chest to the ridges of his exposed six-pack.

She wanted him to fill her again so badly she felt faintly woozy with the need. With him she'd felt confident, beautiful, desirable and…

Secure.

Pace sucked in a rousing breath and stretched one strong arm high above his head. His eyes blinked open, his brow furrowed at his surrounds, then recognition sparked in his eyes and he tipped towards her. His smile illuminated the room more brightly than any morning light. With a playful sexy growl, he leaned close and nipped her ear.

“Morning, gorgeous.” He circled the lobe with his tongue, then blew gently, and a wondrous awakening shiver shimmied through her. “Did you sleep well?”

“I know
you
did.” Cocooned in a warm sense of belonging, she burrowed in and wrapped herself around all that marvellous masculine heat. “I don't think you moved all night.”

His lips grazed her brow. “After the third time you'd exhausted me.” He dragged her up against him, closer
and higher, until their noses and foreheads touched. “But I'm all rested now.”

Sighing, Phoebe fell into the practised magic of his kiss—a gift that was predominantly natural but to some extent must also be acquired. His skill in the bedroom was an art form. He might try to play down his obvious fascination with women—and their fascination with him—but she wasn't fooled. Heaven knew how many times he'd been in just this situation, in bed with someone he'd met less than a handful of times, immeasurably pleased with how successfully he'd brought her to life with his finesse.

Deep into the kiss, her eyes closed, Phoebe had no regrets. She'd set out to play with fire last night and she'd enjoyed every minute. But after today she needed to leave those flames behind. She'd proved what she'd set out to prove, but she didn't intend to make a habit of it. Pace Davis would be way too easy to fall in love with, and more than common sense said he wasn't the kind to reciprocate.

Men who could play the field so effortlessly—with such dedication and relish—normally kept their hearts. It went with the bad boy territory. Now that he'd accomplished what he'd set out to achieve—now that he'd bedded her all through the night—she'd bet that he'd quit the chase and move on quickly enough. It wasn't as if he wouldn't have a string of women wanting to take her place.

But when his mouth continued to lay its claim over hers Phoebe didn't resist. She had no intention of making these last hours together anything but unforgettable.

Right Now
wasn't over just yet.