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I may like Rafe, care for him. But we will never be on the same page when it comes to what’s important in life.
“Yes. Fine. Do what needs to be done.”
He hangs up and comes back to the table.
“Apologies.”
“No.” I wave him off. “Business comes first.”
Something flickers across his face, an emotion I can’t place. But neither of us pursue it. We’ve reached some sort of an impasse, quality that is far more pleasant than the tension we experienced yesterday. The rest of the meal proceeds smoothly, partially due to the exquisite meal and incredible dessert.
“You’re not going to stay for your first lesson?”
My heart surges into my throat as heat sweeps through me. “What?”
He stands and moves with a predatory grace that makes my breath catch. He stops by a lounge and turns, one corner of his mouth curved up in a taunting smirk as he gestures toward the cushions.
“Join me.”
I hear the subtle command in his voice, try to fight the way my body responds to the deep melodic tones of his voice.
And fail miserably as I find myself standing and moving slowly toward him. Drawn toward the banked fire in his eyes, the hunger that emboldens me even as I tremble inside at what’s to come. Nervousness, excitement, anticipation, it all swirls together as I stop a foot away.
Slowly, he reaches out and grabs my waist. I slide my arms out of my crutch cuffs and lay them against a nearby chair. Rafe eases me down onto the lounge, his hands firm yet infinitely gentle. The pressure of his fingers on my skin sends pleasurable bolts of sensation through my body.
He sits next to me and pulls me closer. Our breaths mingle as he lowers his head, pausing just above my lips. My pulse pounds so fiercely I wonder if I’m about to pass out.
“Rafe.”
There’s a question in the way I say his name, a hesitation. I don’t know what he has planned, what’s going to come after this. I do know that I’m standing on the edge of a precipice. One wrong step, and I could lose my heart to a man who will never allow himself to return my feelings.
“Tell me you want this.”
Another command. But one that offers a way out. I stare into his eyes, pale blue fire.
And make my choice.
“Kiss me.”
The words are barely out of my mouth when his lips capture mine. I moan as one arm wraps around my waist, his hand pressing against my back and pulling me tighter against his body. His other hand delves into my hair, his fingers cradling the back of my head as he deepens the kiss.
But this time I’m not just going to sit back and let him initiate. I slowly run my tongue along his lips. He groans. Our mouths open, tongues delving, breaths melding. I can’t tell where I end and he begins as he urges me closer, like he can’t get enough of me.
My hands slide up his chest, over his shoulders, then wrap around his neck. My fingers slide into hair, the silky strands a delicious contrast to the hard planes of his chest. Driven by desire and newfound confidence, I gently tug, rewarded by a growl as he grips my hips and hauls me onto his lap.
I gasp as my skirt rides up. The only barrier between his hard length and my core are his pants and the thin material of my underwear. I shift my hips, moaning as the most incredible feeling spirals through me.
But before I can experiment further, Rafe pulls back. His hands hold me in place so that all I can feel is that wonderful, torturous pressure.
“Rafe,” I beg, trying to move, to feel more.
He doesn’t answer. At least not verbally. No, instead he brushes a kiss over my forehead, one that calms some of the heat racing through me even as it stirs an altogether different feeling in my chest. A tenderness that is both beautiful and unwanted as he trails his mouth over my cheek and down my jaw.
I should stop him. I wanted fire. Foreplay. Sex. Not this sweetness, this romance that makes me want things I can’t have.
I shudder, trying to keep myself under control as his lips trail down my neck toward my shoulders. I knew this was a possibility. That I might struggle to keep sex separate from how I used to feel about my husband.
Used to?a little voice taunts in my head.