My Fake Rake

Seb snapped out of his daze. Right. The race.

Gaining his balance with her weight atop him took a few strides, but soon they were hurtling back down the field. He clutched her legs to keep her secure.

“Enemy ship starboard!” Grace exclaimed.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Muttonchops draw close, a redheaded woman riding the man’s shoulders. The other couple drew close. Then Grace let out a yelp as the redhead reached over to jostle Grace. Seb gritted his teeth as he battled to keep upright, but he gasped out a chuckle as Grace shoved the redhead. With his balance upset, Muttonchops stumbled, yet he kept his feet.

Torches loomed ahead. Seb pushed himself, running hard and holding tightly to Grace. She bounced with each stride he took, but she didn’t seem to mind the discomfort—she seemed too focused on yelling taunts to the other racers.

“Did a goat teach you how to run?” she shouted to a couple they passed. “I’ll fetch you some leading strings after we beat you to the finish line.”

He grinned like a madman. Who knew the clever herpetologist was also a fierce competitor?

Still, carrying her on his shoulders at a full run wasn’t the easiest task, and it was with relief that he spotted the finish line ahead. Not too far now. His lungs and legs burned, but he wouldn’t consider the pain. Not until later.

With a final burst of speed, he and Grace crossed the finish line. Shouts and claps and joyful chaos surrounded them.

Winded, Seb sank to his knees and Grace clambered off. He immediately missed the feel of her thighs around his face.

“Who won?” she demanded, her expression fierce. “Did we win?”

He felt his lips curve into a smile. Once roused, her competitive spirit was mighty. “Doesn’t matter,” he panted. “Not really. All that . . . matters . . . is running . . . the race.”

Her brow smoothed, and she smiled in response—filling his exhausted body with new life. “Wise Sebastian.”

A girl carrying a basket appeared and thrust an object into his palm. He peered at it as he staggered to his feet.

“The strawberry rhubarb pie.” Grace laughed.

He held the pastry up to her. “Your spoils, my lady.”

She took a bite, then licked up the flakes that clung to her lips. His groin tightened.

There was a deep rumble of thunder, and then the clouds opened up. Rain poured down, soaking everything. People ran in every direction, screaming with shock and delight.

Without thought, Sebastian grabbed Grace’s hand while also scooping up his discarded clothing, then broke into a run toward a wooden structure. A barn.

And then he was inside, hearing the sound of wood sliding into place. She’d closed the door. The barn smelled of fresh hay, but not of animals, and he couldn’t hear anything shifting in the stalls. It was almost entirely dark, save for bits of light working through the slats.

He and Grace stood inches apart. Raindrops glittered on her face and neck, and adorned the smooth flesh of her chest that rose and fell. Beads of water clung to her lips, and he wanted nothing more than to lick up those droplets. The race had heated his blood, but having her so close, seeing the hunger in her gaze, he was overwhelmed with the desire he’d tried so furiously to suppress.

There was an answering heat in her eyes. Heat that he craved and feared all at once.

She swayed toward him. “Sebastian.” Her voice was a siren’s, husky and rich, and she stepped closer to stroke her hands up his chest. Despite his wet clothing, her touch was fire.

“Grace.”

They spoke together. “Kiss me.” “Can I taste you?”

As she lifted up on her toes, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, he pulled her close, feeling the pliant, soft heat of her against his hardness. He loved the sensation of her pressed to him, this woman he’d wanted for so long finally in his embrace. Thank God.

And then he thought nothing at all as their mouths met.

Chapter 20

This kiss had none of their previous effort’s tentative, sweet exploration. It was hot and explosive. From the moment their lips met, they devoured each other with fiery demand. Their tongues lapped together, stroking, seeking to bring them closer, and closer still.

She was in a frenzy, whipped to madness by her need for him. He seemed lost in desire, too, the way he kissed and touched her with scorching possession.