Fool's Gold Collection Volume 3. Susan Mallery
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by the main square, and happy squeals of children. The sun was warm on her arms, the scent of flowers and grass mingled with the smell of freshly brewed coffee and barbecue. But all that faded into the background as Rafe moved his mouth against hers.
Wanting to prolong the moment as much as possible, she put her fingers on his shoulder. He was all hard muscle under his cotton shirt. Masculine to her feminine. His palm cupped her arm, drawing her closer, then he stroked his tongue against her lower lip.
She parted her lips immediately. Even before he moved inside, her body began to melt. Liquid longing poured through her, causing her breasts to swell and her thighs to press tightly together.
She wanted to wrap both her arms around him and lose herself in the moment. She wanted more than his tongue brushing against hers. She wanted him naked, taking, pleasing, doing all the things a man like him would do to a woman. When it came to Rafe, she might not be willing to risk her heart, but apparently she was ready to put her body on the line.
But they were sitting in a park in Fool’s Gold, and a little French kissing was all that they could get away with. So she kissed him back, getting lost in the desire that filled her, telling herself it was enough and almost believing it.
He drew back, his dark eyes bright with something she really hoped was lust.
“Nice,” he murmured, then cleared his throat. He drew back. “We can sit here for a minute, right?”
The question confused her. “Why would we… Oh.” Right. Because walking around would make a few things obvious. She risked a quick glance and saw an impressive erection making its presence known. A shiver raced through her.
He took her hand in his and lightly kissed her palm. “If you want to leave this bench anytime soon, you need to stop looking at me like that.”
She wanted to ask, “Like what?” but had a feeling she knew what he was talking about. She was probably looking at him as if he were the one man on earth she had to have.
He shifted so that he was facing front, his ankle resting on his opposite knee. He draped an arm around her, drawing her close.
“Let’s pick a more neutral topic,” he suggested. “And if you could speak in a squeaky voice, that would help, too.”
She laughed. “What’s wrong with my regular voice?”
“It’s sexy.”
She cleared her throat, suddenly unable to think of anything to say. “You never did tell me about your date.”
“And I’m not going to.”
“Any dates planned in the future?”
He glanced at her, his dark eyes bright with amusement. “Could we not talk about me dating?”
“Sure. Um, the carnival is coming to town in a few weeks.”
“Your carnival? The people who taught you to hate townies?”
“Yes, and they didn’t teach me that. I learned on my own.”
“Will someone show me how to tame a lion?”
“That’s the circus. This is the rides and games.”
“I always did like a good Tilt-A-Whirl.”
“Then you’ll have to go on it.”
“You coming with me?”
She shook her head. “They make me throw up.”
“Lightweight.”
“Townie.”
He laughed. He might have a thing for her voice, but she liked the sound of his laughter. It made her feel safe and happy, as did pressing against him, with his arm around her.
All dangerous, she thought. Good thing she wasn’t the type to fall in love.
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