Secret Nights at Nine Oaks by Amy J. Fetzer

unable to answer with anything that wouldn’t open a door too wide. He thought about what he wanted, what he was keeping at bay. He wanted Phoebe and he needed his past to stay out of it.
    If she knew, she’d leave instantly and he couldn’t bear that.
    â€œYou’re in here a lot.”
    She looked toward the ceiling, the tempered glass showing the afternoon sky. A paddle fan pushed the cooled air around the large room, swaying the flowers, surrounding them with fragrance. Beyond the glass, rain fell.
    â€œIt’s like being outside without all the ick.”
    He arched a brow. “Gnats, the oppressive heat?”
    â€œNosy reporters sitting at the fence with long-range cameras.”
    Cain scowled and started to get up to see to the matter when she grabbed his hand.
    â€œLet it go. It won’t do any good. They’ll just find another way.”
    Cain begged to differ, yet he eased back into the seat, finishing off the sandwich and looking for more.
    She offered him hers. He shook his head.
    â€œYou want it,” she teased, “you know you do.” She held it closer.
    â€œThere are other things I want more.”
    â€œOh?” she said, suddenly breathless and reading the velvety look in his eyes.
    â€œYeah, your chips.” As he said that, he munched into one.
    She grinned, then ate the sandwich in record time.
    He blinked. “Glad I didn’t really want more.”
    â€œHey, you had your chance.”
    â€œYou have mayonnaise on your mouth.”
    She licked her lip and the slow slide of her tongue over her lips felt like a charge to Cain. The woman was too deliciously sexy and when she reached for a napkin, Cain leaned forward, swift and stark like a hunter seeking its prey.
    â€œI’ll take care of that,” he murmured, then kissed her.
    Phoebe melted, instantly, completely. His tongue snaked over her lips, outlining them so provocatively she felt at once unhinged and desperatefor more. He tasted her, and she savored each nuance of the kiss—the way his lips worked over her, his rushed breathing—and when he applied pressure she leaned back, pulling him on the sofa with her.
    He deepened his kiss, taking it from the soft, erotic exploration to total possession. His mouth moved heavily, passion rising swiftly through her until she couldn’t contain it.
    His hand slid under her, lifting her hips to his, his erection pressing deeply and eliciting a moan for more. Yes, she thought, more. She wanted him, and her response left no question between them. She’d wanted this for years, aching in her soul to know if passion was all they had, and Phoebe knew, even as her heart tumbled, even as his hands swept her body to cup her breast, this was the passion of a lifetime.
    She clawed at his shoulders, urging him yet feeling his resistance, and when he broke the kiss, staring down at her, Phoebe wondered what was going on in his mind.
    Then she knew.
    â€œI want to touch you. No, I need to,” he said, nipping at her mouth, her throat and lower. “You excite me more than anything.”
    â€œThat’s a good thing then,” she said, smiling and tipping her head back as he nibbled his way lower.“I didn’t think anything would stir you from that place you keep yourself in.”
    Instantly she regretted the comment when his gaze flashed up and she saw it again, that self-recrimination. A dark burden, like a demon looming ready to pounce, and she leaned up and kissed him, forcing it from his mind, drawing him back to the moment, the passion bubbling between them.
    Cain went willingly, eager for anything to keep guilt at bay and indulge in her. He never broke the kiss, making her breathless, stealing her will as she stole his.
    His hand crept under her shirt, a finger hooking the edge of her bra and pulling.
    Phoebe was more than eager, and pulled her shirt up, letting him unhook her. His hand played over her breast, pushing the