Chapter Eight
Rafe couldn’t sleep. How could he when the woman he desired more than his next breath was in the adjoining room? Her mere presence was making him crazy. He tossed and turned, imagining he could hear her breathing next door. Wondering what she wore to bed.
His bed.
Suddenly he bolted upright and glanced at the clock. One o’clock. He must have dozed off after all. Sounds from the other room told him there was someone in the kitchen. He assumed it was Sara, but he climbed out of bed, pulled on an old pair of sweats and headed into the other room to make sure.
Sure enough, Sara stood in front of the sink. But he was unprepared for the sight of her in a short two-piece number, all silk and lace, that was probably supposed to be cute but instead looked sexy as hell.
Her hair, tousled from sleep, hung over her shoulders. Her full breasts peeked from the low-cut V-neck and her nipples poked through the nearly sheer silk.
How much could a red-blooded male take?
Knowing he was staring, he cleared his throat.
She jumped, startled, and met his gaze. “I didn’t hear you come in!”
“Sorry. I wanted to make sure it was you and not someone trying to get to you.”
She nodded in understanding. “Sorry if I woke you. I just wanted to get a drink of water.” She raised the glass in her hand.
He inclined his head. “You didn’t wake me. I couldn’t sleep.”
“Me, neither.”
Quiet descended; there was no noise except for the hum of the fridge and the ticktock of a clock on the wall.
“We could sit and talk for a while,” she suggested. As if she weren’t half-naked. And he weren’t completely aroused, the blood rushing in his ears, through his head and settling in one very obvious body part.
There was no way she could miss it any more than he could ignore it. “Or we could pick up where we left off on the beach.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “I thought you said it was a bad idea?”
He inclined his head. “It probably is.”
They looked at life from opposite points of view. He wanted to believe anything was possible. She was a cynic, always looking for the worst. He knew better than to think he could convince her to change her mind about relationships.
But he could change his about short-term affairs.
She reached out and placed her hand against his forehead much as he’d done to her the other day. “Are you sure you’re not sick?”
“I’m sure.” He was burning up, but not from fever. He stepped closer. “Are you still interested?”
She didn’t back away. “I could be persuaded…if I knew what brought on the change of heart.”
He dove in completely. Meeting her gaze, he lifted a lock of her long hair, winding it around one finger. “I didn’t like it when those guys tried to hit on you back at Angel’s.”
Her eyes darkened to a richer hue. Desire shimmered in the chocolate depths, and a pleased smile tipped her lips. “So that explains your snippy behavior.”
“You sound pleased.”
She shrugged. “Maybe I am. Nobody wants to be rejected, even if the reason is a sound one.” She paused, biting down on her lower lip.
“I’m not turning you down this time,” he assured her.
She nodded her head in understanding. “But…”
“What?” He couldn’t take it if she rejected him, and steeled himself for whatever she said next.
“Are you sure you’re up to it?” She reached out and gently drew her hand over the still-fresh scar on his chest, her fingertip delicate and hesitant as she touched his skin.
Memories of waking up and seeing her in his hospital room came flooding back. Of Sara asleep in a chair, watching over him—caring for him. Yes, they’d already bonded emotionally and knowing she cared deeply merely assured him that this next step was right.
Necessary.
As necessary to him as breathing, Rafe thought. Because there was no way he could walk away from her.
“So, what do we do now?” she asked.
“This.” Rafe tugged lightly on her hair and pulled her toward him.
She came willingly.
Her lips met his, and all the oxygen sucked from the room. This was what he’d been waiting for. Starving for. He swirled his tongue inside her mouth and found himself surrounded by her scent and her taste, aroused by the sweet feel of her lips urgent and insistent on his.
She snuggled in close, plastering her body against his until his bare chest crushed her breasts. Skin against skin, every soft curve pressed tightly into him. There was no room between them. Not even air.
She trailed kisses with her lips from his mouth to his jaw, her hot breath against his cheek, her wicked tongue whispering over his skin.
He shuddered from the arousing sensations he never wanted to end.
“Take me to bed,” she whispered into his ear.
She asked for what she wanted, and he liked that about her.
Rafe grabbed her hand and led her into the bedroom. He paused by the nightstand and opened the drawer, pulling out a box of condoms.
“I like a man who’s prepared.” She sat on the bed and eased back against the pillows, the pose provocative and arousing: everything he hadn’t let himself want, there for the taking.
His heart beat hard inside his chest. He placed the foil packet on the corner of the mattress and sat beside her, deliberately leaving the dim light on so he could enjoy the view. Her hair fanned over the pillows, her eyes hooded and pupils dilated. He watched in awe as her nipples tightened, peaking beneath the flimsy material, silently beckoning to him.
He slipped his hand beneath the thin strap of her top, his finger deliberately grazing her skin. “I never knew you liked silk and lace,” he murmured. But he was damned glad she did.
Sara lifted one shoulder in a light shrug. “That’s because we didn’t spend much time together outside of work,” she said, her voice sexy and raw.
“That’s because I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you.”
“And now you don’t have to.”
She met his gaze, her need crystal clear, so he slid the straps down over her arms until the entire camisole gave way, pooling around her waist, exposing her full breasts to his view.
He hadn’t known she was so full or ripe, and he wondered what other surprises awaited him. His mouth watered, the need to taste her growing stronger. “Beautiful.”
She made no move to cover herself, merely braced her hands behind her, thrusting those luscious mounds forward, teasing him, tempting him, as she waited for him to make the next move.
He cupped her breasts, letting their weight settle in his hands, her nipples puckering and pressing into his palms. Just the feel wasn’t enough; he turned his attention to those tight peaks, rolling and plucking her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, watching with satisfaction as she threw her head back and writhed beneath his touch.
He’d found her sensitive spot, he thought, pleased, and continued the sensual assault.
Her breathing grew more and more uneven, and suddenly Rafe was on a mission to see how far he could take her this way. Dipping his head, he sealed his lips over one breast, pulling the distended bud into his mouth. His other hand never left her other breast, and he continued giving them equal attention.
Her breathing increased, while his body tightened more with each pant until her body convulsed and she let out a long, drawn-out moan of pleasure.
He lifted his head in time to see her slide her hand from beneath the waistband of her silk shorts.
Startled, he met her heavy-lidded gaze. “Should I be insulted?” he asked lightly.
Because he wasn’t. He was even more turned on.
She shook her head, a naughty look in her eyes. “Only if you’re insecure.”
He burst out laughing. “I admire a woman who isn’t afraid of anything.”
She grinned. “I believe it’s your turn now.”
“I’d like mine the old-fashioned way.”
“I think that can be arranged.” A slow, seductive smile curved her lips. “I don’t want you to exert yourself. You’re still recovering, after all.” She sat up and eased his shoulders down until he lay flat on his back.
Liking this show of control, he placed his hands behind his head and grinned. “Then take care of me, babe.”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Sara pulled the string on his sweats, releasing the waistband, then lowered the soft cotton only to discover he wasn’t wearing boxers. Or briefs. Or anything but a raging hard-on meant just for her.
She glanced at his swollen member and swallowed hard. “Commando.”
He merely shrugged.
“That means you sleep…”
“Naked.”
Just as she’d thought.
“Is that a problem for you?” he asked.
“It certainly isn’t.”
“Good.” He kicked the sweats off, leaving him gloriously naked. “Your turn.” He watched her intently.
She wasn’t normally self-conscious, but his admiring gaze unnerved her, in part because she’d wanted this for so long. At the reminder, she turned her thoughts off and decided to enjoy. After all, this might be the only time she had with Rafe, and she wanted to savor and remember it all.
Her top was already wrapped around her waist, and it didn’t take long to shimmy both pieces down her legs and slide them off.
“Now we’re on equal footing.” His eyes darkened with need, his expression one of pure admiration.
She swung her good leg over his hips and settled her body over him. Warm skin against warm skin, he felt so good as she eased herself down and settled her lips on his.
He captured her head with the back of his hand, holding her in place while he thrust his tongue inside her mouth. Like everything else they did, they were in complete synch, his rhythm and hers meshing perfectly. Each kiss, every roll of their hips, the rasping of her sensitive breasts against his hair-roughened chest, was in unison.
His erection teased her, rubbing against her flesh, making her ache and want with a desperation she’d never experienced before. And the sensations were spectacular, shooting through her body, which now begged for completion.
She broke their connection only to grab for the condom packet on the edge of the bed and tear it open. She sat back, watching out for her knee, and rolled the condom over his shaft.
Her hands shook as she touched his rigid length, covered with soft skin. Her fingers lingered, feeling and learning him until his hips bucked upward, startling her.
“I suggest you get to it or it’ll be over before it begins,” Rafe said, his voice rough. He gripped the sheets beside him, knuckles white.
She’d obviously tortured them both long enough.
She bent her legs to lift herself over him. Pain shot through her knee, and she buckled over. “So much for me taking care of you.” She spoke over the searing pain, knowing it would eventually subside.
“Maybe we’re supposed to take care of each other.” He brushed her hair out of her eyes and met her gaze.
“What did you have in mind?”
He climbed out of bed. He was gorgeous, his body tanned and fit. He pulled a chair from the desk in the corner, turned it around and sat down.
Then he crooked a finger her way. “Come here,” he said, his tone sexy and full of need.
She stood and walked over. “I like how you think.”
As she swung her bad leg over his thighs, he grasped her hips and helped her maneuver directly over his erection, which jutted out at her, poised for entry.
He placed one hand over her mound, using his finger to spread her moisture, tease her flesh. She bit down on her lip, allowing the gentle but insistent sensations to take over, enjoying his tender touch until her good leg buckled from the weight.
“Ready?” he asked gruffly.
She nodded.
Raising her hips, he lifted her and settled his erection at the juncture of her thighs. He thrust upward at the same moment she released herself and settled onto him completely.
The shock of the connection made her pause. He was thick inside her, buried deep. She met his gaze and saw the same sense of rightness and awe settle over his handsome face. It scared her so much she shut her eyes and rocked her hips in an attempt to focus on the sensations in her body, but for the first time, she couldn’t separate emotion from need. Desire from yearning.
He tugged at her hair, and she opened her eyes. He wanted her to watch. She saw it in his face and was powerless to deny him.
And then they began to move together, in unison, the rock of her hips, the thrust of his, working together to take her higher and higher. He was buried so deep, she felt all of him inside her, every thick, rigid, velvet inch as they ground together where their bodies joined.
Harder, faster, he took her higher.
He breathed deep, his exhales sounding like erotic groans in her ear.
His hips rocked against hers over and over, and she gasped at each sensual assault, the waves coming at her from all sides, inside and out. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes dilated, and every raw groan took her closer to the explosive orgasm that was just out of reach.
She wrapped her arms around his neck to thrust harder against him, letting him plunge higher and deeper. He released her hair, slipping his hand between them again and touching her where she needed it most. His fingertip slid over her, and the pressure sent her spiraling out of control as she exploded, coming in wave after never-ending wave that took him along for the ride. His last final groan reverberated in her ear and sent shock waves through her body.
Even after the contractions subsided, Sara held on to him for dear life, her arms still around his neck. But when reality came pouring back, she unlocked her hands and released him, easing herself off, careful not to put too much pressure on her bad knee.
She heard rustling behind her, and then, taking her by surprise, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back into bed.
No words were spoken as, naked, he curled himself around her, held on tight and fell asleep.
She didn’t relax as quickly or as easily, the ramifications of finally making love to Rafe hitting her hard.
She’d dreamed of this, but the reality was far more potent and exciting than she’d ever imagined. Even with them both not quite at one hundred percent, he’d satisfied her like no man ever had. Because he’d breached the emotional walls she’d always kept high. Walls she’d just have to make higher now that she knew what they were capable of together.
Because no matter how incredible, Sara knew one thing for sure when it came to relationships: all good things had to come to an end.
Rafe woke up to an empty bed and the sound of the shower running in his bathroom. He immediately processed two things. The good news—Sara was still here. The bad news—she wasn’t in his bed.
He stretched, feeling the pull of muscles telling him he was alive and feeling good. Better than good. Great.
The water stopped running, and his gaze wandered to the closed bathroom door.
He eased himself up against the headboard, propped his arms behind his head and waited.
A few minutes later, the door swung open and steam trailed out, followed by Sara wrapped in one of the beige towels his mother had bought him when he’d moved in, convinced he needed her help.
“Good morning,” he said.
She jumped, obviously startled. “I didn’t realize you were up.”
“I am now.” In more ways than one, after viewing her glistening skin, damp hair and creamy exposed skin.
“I hope I didn’t wake you.”
He shook his head. “Sunlight did that.” He gestured to the blinds he’d forgotten to draw closed the night before. “Where are you going?”
“To get my clothes. I need to go over to Angel’s to help her set up her pie booth at the fair.”
“I’ll drive you. I figured we could pick up your car and park it back here, where no one will notice it. Then we’ll go back to Angel’s.” He’d hoped to coax her back to bed, but she’d already warned him she wanted to be at Angel’s early this morning. “Just let me jump in the shower, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
She nodded and started for the door.
Not too awkward considering it was their first morning after.
They hadn’t discussed last night, but in his mind, that was a good thing. He didn’t want her running scared, and if she knew just how much he’d enjoyed her, how much he wanted to be with her again, she’d do just that. So silence on the subject suited him fine.
Silence in general did not. “Sara.”
She turned back to him. “Yes?”
“Why don’t you move your things in here?”
She narrowed her gaze, assessing him.
“Did you really think I’d let you sleep alone in your bed the rest of the time you were here?”
An amused smile pulled at her lips. “Umm…”
“Of course, if you want to be alone…”
She shook her head. “I’ll be right back with my things.” She turned and ran out the door, leaving him laughing.
And pleased.
Not bad for a morning’s work. He had her where he wanted her.
The rest would fall into place.
They ate a quick breakfast of cereal and milk before heading over to the bed-and-breakfast, bringing Sara’s car back to Rafe’s, and returning to Angel’s, resigned to helping his sister-in-law and Sara load pies into her minivan—only to discover the two guests who’d checked in yesterday had already finished the job. The pies were securely in the van along with her price signs and flyers.
Frick and Frack and their argyle vests were nowhere to be seen. Rafe called his brother to make sure he’d be at the festival to watch over Angel. Just in case.
Sara slid out of the Jeep, an added spring in her limp that Rafe attributed to last night. He was damn well floating.
“Sorry we’re late,” Sara said, heading to meet Angel by the van.
Rafe couldn’t tear his gaze off her short, flouncy skirt, which showed off her long legs, her skimpy tank top and beaded flip-flops. She’d skipped the knee brace, and when she wasn’t looking, he’d tucked it into the backseat of the car. After a long day of working at the booth, she’d be happy to have the support.
“No worries.” Angel waved away the apology. “Biff and Todd did all the heavy work, so we didn’t have to.” She shot a grateful gaze toward the two men who’d walked out onto the front porch, dressed as preppily as they’d been the day before. They were damned odd, and his radar was on alert.
“They seem really nice,” Sara said.
Rafe frowned. “What kind of names are Biff and Todd, anyway?”
“Shh!” Sara nudged him with her elbow. “They helped Angel out, so leave them alone!”
Rafe shook his head, uncomfortable with their defense of those two men. He couldn’t say why they bothered him, but they did. And instinct rarely served him wrong.
Angel glanced at her watch. “I need to get moving. Why don’t you meet me at my booth, and you can help me sell?” she asked Sara.
She nodded eagerly.
He wasn’t sure what had her so excited to work a pie booth, but he wasn’t about to take that smile off her face. He’d just spend the day at the family spice booth, hanging out with his relatives and keeping an eye on her from a close distance.
Biff and Todd weren’t the only strangers that concerned him. The influx of visitors would camouflage anyone who came specifically for Sara. But if someone was after her, they’d have to get through him first.