He took the stick from her and leaned it against the table then turned back to her. The game was over, but those billiard balls still bumped against each other in her chest.
With reverence, he took her right hand and raised her knuckles up to his lips, gently pressing a soft kiss against the back of her hand. The veneration of the gesture eased knots in her body yet managed to make her insides feel like liquid.
Slade stood there eying her, intensity and inquiry vibrating from him. He made no other move towards her, didn’t invade her space further. The knowledge that he could if he wished lingered in her mind.
“Are you still amenable to a kiss, Phoebe?” he whispered, watching her.
Phoebe’s mouth went bone dry. If Egan found out she kissed Slade, he would murder Slade and lock her up in a tower for the rest of her life. Her brother was overbearing, overprotective and downright barmy at times. But she loved him and knew he was only trying to keep her safe. And Egan loved Slade like a brotherbut knowing her brother, Egan would think it wrong for them to kiss, like his brother was kissing his sister.
But Phoebe had chided herself enough for not being confident as a child, or not being more open with her feelings when she was younger. And this was her chance to be confident, open and even bold. Because the truth was, she’d always had amorous feelings for Slade.
Slade’s thumb started to draw slow lazy circles in the palm of Phoebe’s hand, which he still held. The touch was gentle, but her body’s reaction was not. His touch heated and sensitized her palms, sending prickles of energy down the length of her. Her eyes fluttered back up to his. Despite the bright sun streaming through the window, darkness danced with the light in his eyes, making her knees like jam.
“You never call me Phoebe,” she finally said.
“I find Fifi to be the name of the little mischievous elfin girl I met fifteen years ago. And Phoebe to be the name of a woman I’d very much like to kiss, if she’s amenable,” he said, his tone silken.
His words obliterated her senses. In that moment she lacked the ability to think, to draw air into her lungs, or to even move. Both her mind and body under the control of a heady, tantalizing, and terrifying force. She swallowed twice before managing to clear a pathway for air and words to flow.
“I concede,” she said, sounding winded.
Her breath stilled as blood raced through her veins. Expectation made her splay her free hand on his chest. She loved the intimate feel of him, hard and unyielding. The wildly pulsating beats of his heart beneath her palm were very much like her own. His hand continued to gently hold her, while the other rested on the table. The innocuous gesture gave her a modicum of security in that she could easily break free and run,if she wanted. Yet she remained as still as a mouse. Exhilarated. Anticipating. And in utter panic.
Slade lowered his head to hers, his eyes intensely focused on her mouth. The first brush of his lips against hers was ever so slight. When the dangerous squeeze in her chest prompted her to breathe, it occurred to her that her lips were tightly shut. Had she been expecting excruciating pain? In fact, the touch of his lips was soft, like the brush of a summer’s breeze. It eased the unruly panic inside her, lessened the tension and chased away the cold hard dread.
His lips were velvety soft, in contrast to the hardness of the rest of him.
His lips stilled, as if giving her room to get used to him or to retreat if she so desired. Innately her lips relaxed. Her body, knowing something her mind didn’t, pressed into his. After a breath Slade began to softly trail his lips over hers. It was warm, teasing, and tempting. Her hand, having a mind of its own, slipped out of his, then both her palms slid up his chest and lingered on his shoulders.
A strange but sweet lightheadedness overtook her at the taste of cinnamon from his tooth powder. While every nerve ending in her body hummed with desire, he stilled as if awaiting her next move. Her body, heedless of the chaos in her brain, pressed further into him. Her hand unconsciously continued its ascent around Slade’s neck. A low masculine rumble of pleasure sounded from his chest as his lips continued their sweet tender assault on her mouth.
Her heart thumped against her chest, shivers of pleasure ran up her spine as heat rippled down to her core. She’d never considered a man’s lips could have this drugging effect. Never imagined the mere touching of lips could ignite such a powerful and intense symphony of delight and wonder in her body. Whyhadn’t anyone told her a kiss could be dangerous, stripping her of inhibitions?
But then Slade’s hands slid around the small of her back. And everything stopped. Phoebe froze. Ice cold panic shot through her like red-hot pokers piercing her body from every direction. She yanked away, breaking their kiss in a panic. Perhaps sensing this, Slade took a step back, her breath coming loud and fast, the same as his.
Phoebe struggled to wipe away the recollection of a vile, red-coated figure pinning the small of her back down into sharp pebbles, just before ripping her most intimate flesh apart with unimaginable pain.
She swallowed hard against the acid rising from her stomach.
His brows lowered in concern, breaking through his dark expression. “Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head, unable to speak just yet. Unable to get a handle on the chaos in her mind and body. She didn’t miss the tremor in Slade’s hands as he raked his fingers through his thick hair, his teeth worrying his lower lip.
Concern marred his handsome features. “Forgive me if I frightened you. It was never my intention.” His eyes searched hers.
As she willed her breath to calm, he spoke again.
“Should I call Lucia to sit with you?”
“Dear God, no,” Phoebe said, in a strangled sound, managing to find her voice.
“Very well then, since it appears my presence may prove more of a hinderance than help, I will leave you to compose yourself,” he said.
He brushed a brief kiss on her knuckles, the scorching intensity in his eyes sending shockwaves through her body as he exited the gaming room. Her body trembled, her pulse raced, and something stung the back of her eyes. Just one touch of hislips and he had shattered her mind and body and altered her world. Everything she had wanted during the past seven years, being the untouchable pillar of ice, strength, and aloofness where men were concerned all lay broken like a million pieces of a smashed glass jar, impossible to be put back together.
CHAPTER 29
Just under two weeks later, in the dusky afternoon, the sleek, rumbling Hanbury coach dipped and jerked as it ran over a hole in the dirt road. Phoebe worried it might wake Lucia. Her friend, who sat across from her, had dozed off, her head resting on Martha’s cushiony-looking shoulder. The sky filled with rolling waves of blacks, fiery oranges, and dulling yellows beckoned the darkness of night and chased away the light of day.
