by Rachel Lee
“You never would. But the bottom line is that I can read it in your face. One of my talents learned from a life of foster homes and risking my neck on the streets. I drive you nuts with the way I get close and then pull back. It’s obvious. And I don’t blame you for feeling that way.”
She didn’t answer, pressing her lips closed.
“But you...you’re different. You don’t just get close then pull away because you get afraid of what you might feel. No, you shut the doors and pull up the drawbridge before anybody can get close.”
“That’s not true.”
“It sure as hell is. And it’s getting more and more obvious, so I must be getting too close.”
She hated him right then. If a smoldering look could have turned him to a cinder, she would have done so.
“Go ahead and glare at me. I suppose I deserve it. But keep one thing in mind, Angel. I may pull back when I get scared, but I keep coming back. You...you’re going to leave town. That makes it kind of hard for anybody to have a chance.”
“What chance? I’m just another Raquel to you.”
His lips tightened into a thin, white line. “Low blow, baby.”
“I’m not your baby!”
“And you’re never going to be anybody’s baby if you don’t take a chance.”
She continued to glare at him, some part of her recognizing that she was being deliberately contrary, but unable to stop. She absolutely had to get out of this place as quickly as she could. It was the only way she could be safe.
“You’ve been avoiding me ever since we made love!” The words burst out of her unbidden, and she was horrified. She had never, ever, wanted to say that, never wanted to admit that much.
“I have,” he agreed. “I was scared. So what’s your excuse? You haven’t exactly been trying to get closer yourself. Are you scared, too, Angela?”
“Look, this whole discussion is academic. I’m going home, and you’re going to do whatever it is you want to do with the rest of your life, and we’re never going to meet again. So who the hell cares if you’re scared or I’m scared, or who’s the biggest idiot between us?”
“I do. It’s real important to me to know that I haven’t been the idiot this time.”
She gaped at him, wondering what in the world he meant, but then he was kneeling in front of her, catching her face between his hands and giving her a kiss that shook her to her very soul.
“You be the idiot if you have to,” he said quietly, while she was still gasping for breath. “But I’m damned if I’m going to make the same mistake twice.”
Before she could even begin to divine what he meant by that, he snatched her breath away with another kiss, one that seemed to reach deep within her and pluck at feelings she had been desperately trying to bury. Feelings that responded to his touch as if it were an earthquake.
She wanted him. Whatever part of her had been denying it was lost in the onslaught of the needs he awoke within her. Every sensible thought fled before the attack of his mouth. Her arms lifted and wrapped around his shoulders as if they belonged there, and when he bent her back so that she was lying on the bed with him kneeling between her legs, she was just glad that she didn’t have any more decisions to make, that she didn’t have to muster another argument. What was about to happen was as inevitable as sunrise, and every bit as potent.
His weight between her legs felt good, so good that she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his hips, bringing him even closer. It might have been a signal for him, because he shoved her blouse up and unhooked her bra in one fevered movement.
She felt the air on her bare skin, felt its coolness pucker her. Or maybe it was the way he was looking at her, as if her breasts filled him with longing and wonder. Then, before she could do more than recognize his look, she felt his mouth on her, hot and wet and hungry.
She was lost, and she didn’t care. If there was a way back from this madness, she didn’t want to find it. Not now. She would deal with the aftermath later, because she knew even in the throes of what she was feeling that there was going to be pain.
But she couldn’t make herself care enough to deny herself what he was offering. She needed the sensations and the closeness. She needed this gift he was offering her, however brief it would be.
His mouth warmed her breast, tugging gently until it was swollen and aching. Then he moved to the other one, giving it the same wondrous treatment. She clutched at his shoulders, holding him close, wishing this closeness could be hers forever.
Then, as if from a distance, she heard her own voice say, “This doesn’t solve anything, Rafe.”
He lifted his head, leaving her feeling bereft, and said, “No, but it sure makes the issues a hell of a lot clearer.”
“We shouldn’t...” Oh, God, that couldn’t be her saying that, not when every cell in her body was screaming for his touch.
“We should,” he said flatly, and caught her face between his hands. “I can’t get close to you any other way. If this is all I can have, I’m going to take it.”
So this was all he wanted, she thought hazily as his mouth found her breast again. Just this. Nothing else. And much as she wanted that to matter, it couldn’t, not right now, when she wanted him every bit as much as he seemed to want her.
She felt him pop the button on her slacks and knew that this was it, that she wasn’t going to stop him.
Knew, in her deepest heart, that she was going to soar on these moments with him and cherish every one of them.
Tomorrow was soon enough to crash and burn.
Chapter 11
At some level, Angela almost seemed to rise above herself. Everything except his touches seemed unreal, distant, utterly unimportant. Reality was his kiss, his caress, his warm weight pressing her down.
Her slacks slid away, then her panties, and she lifted herself so he could pull her shirt and bra off. Then he covered her, cradling himself between her thighs, and she felt the most erotic sensation she had ever known, the press of a fully clothed man’s body against her unprotected nakedness.
She caught her breath, awash in textures, her senses heightened by her own delightful vulnerability. She could feel denim and Oxford cloth, could feel the hardness of him behind the hardness of his zipper. And she was suddenly in no hurry to have him undress. There was a wicked pleasure in what she was feeling now, and she wanted to savor it
As if he knew it, he caught her hands with his own, holding them prisoner. He scattered kisses all over her, from her mouth down the column of her throat, across her breasts.
Then lower. Trailing down across her waist, her belly. Traveling lower, until she was holding her breath in anticipation, in expectation of something she had never experienced before.
She felt him nuzzle her curls, and she gasped, arching instinctively. He obliged, teasing her curls until she was throbbing and gasping his name, making silent promises until she feared that he would not keep them.
But he did. When she felt the first touch of his tongue on her sensitive nub, the sensation was so powerful that she almost cried out in pain. What escaped her was a long, low moan. Then his tongue stroked her again, and the pain became pleasure. Her entire world became the tiny Knot of nerves that he had found in her moist folds.
She gasped again as he slipped a finger within her, then cried out as his tongue lashed her again. She had never dreamed that her body could know such intense sensations, had never dreamed the pleasures to be found in utter vulnerability.
She could feel the heat of his breath on her in a place she had never expected to feel anyone’s breath, could feel the moist heat of his tongue, the faint scratch of beard stubble, and all of it added to the fire that was building in her.
Higher she rose, straining toward that exquisite moment of completion, yet reluctant to arrive there too soon. She wanted this to go on forever, and ever and ever....
But it didn’t. All too soon, it seemed, she exploded in a cataclysm so intense that she was blinded by it Al
l too soon she was on the other side, sinking slowly back to earth, with his face pressed hard to her womanhood.
Then he stood. She opened her eyes just enough to watch as he stripped away his clothes. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t make a sound. Even though she yearned to touch him, she felt too weak to lift a hand.
Oh, he was beautiful, she thought, watching him through her lashes. Just perfect. Compactly muscled, lean, bronzed. She wished she could have a picture of him to carry with her always.
Before anticipated sorrow could wedge its way into her consciousness, however, he turned her on the bed and stretched out beside her, kissing her, letting her know he wasn’t done with her.
For a little while there was nothing but kisses, as if he sensed she needed time to recover from what she had just discovered.
And as she recovered, as the strength seeped back into her limbs, she discovered she wanted him every bit as much as she ever had. She would never, ever, feel that she had had enough of Rafe.
But this would be her last chance to have him at all.
Suddenly full of energy, she lifted herself on her elbow, so that she looked down at him. His dark eyes were slumberous, and he lay back, as if inviting her to take her fill of him. Bending, she kissed him again, tasting herself on him.
He smiled when she began to run her hands over him.
“What do you like?” she asked, her voice catching. She had never asked that question before; it had never seemed important enough. But then, no one had ever made love to her the way Rafe just had, as if all that mattered was giving her pleasure.
“Whatever you like. Everything you like.”
The huskiness of his voice thrilled her, and she felt a dawning sense of power. Her hands grew bolder, sweeping over his chest and belly, down his thighs. His smile deepened, and his eyelids grew even heavier.
She discovered that his small nipples hardened when she brushed over them. Curious and excited by her discovery, she brushed them again and heard a sigh escape him. He was just like her, she realized. She had never guessed that before.
And now she had a road map. Whatever pleased her would probably please him, as well. Bending, she teased one brown nipple with her tongue and heard a soft groan escape him.
Pleased, she devoted herself to teasing him as he had teased her, licking, sucking, and at one point nipping gently. The sensation caused him to arch, and he groaned more loudly. The sound renewed the aching between her own legs, and she unconsciously moved closer to him.
Wanting so much more, she began to kiss him everywhere he had kissed her, enjoying his obvious pleasure in her touches.
And finally she kissed his shaft, learning from his reactions how he responded to her touches, watching his hands grip the coverlet, listening to him moan. Her power was complete, she realized. He was now as helpless as she had been.
But before she could pursue that any further, he half sat up, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her over him. “Lift up,” he said hoarsely, and guided himself into honeyed depths.
She straddled him, not moving, paralyzed by the exquisite sensation of having him fill her. Her eyes were closed, her head thrown back, her body nothing but a vessel for him and for the magic they made together.
Then he reached up and touched her breasts, gently squeezing her swollen nipples. She groaned and began to move against him, finding herself once more on the climb to ecstasy.
The next minutes were a total blur as sensation blinded her. She never remembered them clearly, but she would never ever forget the moment when they reached the apex together and tumbled over.
She shattered then into a thousand flaming pieces. And deep inside she knew she would never again be the same.
They cuddled under the blankets. Angela was past trying to put any distance between them. After what they had just shared, she needed these minutes of closeness, needed to hold him and be held by him. Needed to pretend this could go on forever.
He seemed to feel the same. He dozed for a minute or two, but other than that, his dark eyes stayed open, stayed fixed on her, as if he were afraid to lose sight of her.
Or afraid of what she might do next. She couldn’t blame him for that. His analysis of her psyche might be all wet, but she couldn’t deny that she had been difficult and contrary.
None of that belonged right here, right now, and she didn’t even want to think about it. Tomorrow would be here soon enough, and when she was on the road she could tell herself what a fool she had been.
“Do you need to eat something?” he asked lazily.
“I’m fine.” Much as she hated the illness that made that question necessary, she was touched that he cared enough to remember.
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“Well, you might be ‘fine,’ but I’m super.”
She had to smile at that. “Yes, you are.”
“No. I mean, you made me feel super.”
“Thank you.”
He smiled and placed a kiss on her shoulder. In response, she snuggled closer.
The afternoon was waning, she realized. Light was no longer pouring in through the windows, and the room had become dim. Much as she wanted to stay like this forever, she knew that reality was about to intrude again. The baby would wake. She would need to take her insulin. It would be time go down to dinner with Emma and Gage. Then would follow a long evening while everyone tried to be cheerful and no one wanted to say goodbye.
“You look sad,” Rafe remarked.
“I guess I am, a little.” It was hard to make the admission, but she forced herself.
“Me, too.” He sighed and hugged her tighter for a moment. “Do you really have to leave?”
“It’s time to get on with my life.”
“Yeah. I guess. I’m kind of stuck in limbo here for a while.”
“It’ll pass.”
“Sure. But are you sure you can’t stay another week? It’s not like you have to get back to your job.”
Her heart skipped a beat; then she asked herself why he wanted her to stay. Because she was a convenient lay? Even as she asked the bitter question, she knew it was unjustified. Rafe had never treated her that way.
“What good could it possibly do for me to stay another week?” she asked finally.
“Well, you’d have more time to relax. Get your sugar sorted out. I’m still worried about what happened on Monday.”
“That was just a blip.”
“What if you have another blip on the road?”
“I’ll be more careful. What happened Monday was sheer carelessness on my part.”
“Okay.” He was silent for a while. Then he looked straight at her and said, “I wish you wouldn’t go.”
Her heart seemed to stop. She searched his face, trying to divine his meaning, but he offered her nothing more than that. I wish you wouldn’t go. That could mean so much—or so little.
She closed her eyes, wrestling with internal doubts, wondering if she dared take this risk for nothing more than an I wish you wouldn’t go. Inevitably her thoughts returned to Lance and how he had hurt her.
But today she saw the whole relationship in a different light. Lance had fallen for her quickly. He had been surprisingly ready to announce his love for her, and they’d become engaged before he’d ever really seen what diabetes could do. Oh, he’d known about it intellectually, but she’d been so careful not to make a to-do about her shots and her need to eat that the disease had been virtually invisible to him.
Until they started living together. Little by little he’d begun to resent the way her disease hemmed them in, and now she wondered if the engagement wouldn’t have ended a lot sooner if she hadn’t become pregnant.
“Angel?”
She opened her eyes and found Rafe’s dark gaze on her, steady and unblinking.
“Stay,” he said again. “Just another week.”
All he wanted was another week. Some part of her resented that, but some part of her wanted it every bit
as much as he did. And after the loneliness of her life since Lance, she was no longer certain she would ever again have an opportunity to hear a man say, “Stay.”
It was a week. Just a week. It couldn’t get much worse than it already was, she reasoned. And wasn’t she entitled to steal just one week out of her life? Wasn’t she entitled to pretend that she was a normal woman, having a normal love affair, for just one week?
“Okay,” she heard herself say.
He smiled and squeezed her tight, sprinkling kisses over her face until she laughed and forgot her impending sorrow.
“Great,” he said, with a huge smile. “Now, unless I’m mistaken, it’s time for you to take your insulin.”
“It’s that late?” She twisted her head and looked at the clock. “It is!”
“Yup. And I can hear Emma and Gage downstairs making dinner.”
She felt a blush creep up her throat into her face. “They’re home?”
“They sure are. But if they suspect anything, I don’t think either one of them is going to embarrass you by mentioning it. But we need to get down there and help them.”
She nodded, embarrassed, and started to sit up.
“Wait,” he said.
She paused and looked at him.
“Let me watch you take your insulin. Tell me all about it.”
She started to shake her head.
“No,” he said, stilling her with a finger over her lips. “It’s part of you. You don’t need to hide it from me.”
“But there’s no need....”
“Yes, there is,” he said. “Until you trust me with this, you don’t trust me.”
Trust! As if they needed trust to have a week-long fling. But part of her understood what he was saying, and when she thought about it, she decided to do it. After all, if he was going to get disgusted, she might as well find out right now, before she unpacked her bags.
But it was a terrible intimacy. Lance had wanted no part of it, and she couldn’t see any reason why another person should want to see such a thing.
Except...except she had the feeling that he was trying to tell her that he didn’t think her needing insulin was any worse than brushing her teeth or combing her hair.
