by Addison Fox
It weighed on her, as well.
She wanted to feel sorry for what happened, yet all she could muster was a vague sense of distaste for the wasted life that had stood before her, trying to kill her and Rafe. What did that make her? A monster like her father?
The tears spilled up and over—hot and immediate—before she could stop them. Without questioning the urge, she raced into Rafe’s arms, letting out a hard rush of air as their bodies met.
“Shh, now. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. That thing was not okay. Nothing about this morning was okay. But we’re okay.” She leaned back, searching his gaze for some understanding. “We’re okay.”
His arms came around her as he buried his face in her neck. Hot, whispered words floated over her neck, his lips a brand against her collarbone. “We’re okay.”
Comfort, warm and secure, filled her as she stood in the circle of his arms. He’d shed his coat from earlier, left in nothing but his shirt and slacks, and she reveled in the warmth of his body and the solid strength of him pressed against her.
Had she ever felt this safe? This protected?
He’d stood for her today. When her life was threatened, he’d been the one to protect her. He’d killed for her to keep her safe.
“Evangeline.” He murmured her name over and over again, his lips playing across the sensitive skin of her throat and neck. What had started as an act of sharing comfort rapidly changed, the sensuality of the moment not lost on either of them. She wanted him.
And in that moment, she could think of nothing she wanted more than to have Rafe inside of her. Moving within her. Filling her with his life essence, creating something new and fresh and life-affirming.
That was the harshest reality of Bruce, of her father, of all the others Chaos had tricked into service. They all lived half lives, devoted to a master who neither cared for them nor ultimately fulfilled them.
She’d spent her life avoiding that path, knowing full well what the possible consequences were. Yet she’d had no idea that she’d also closed herself off to feeling anything. By avoiding strong emotions and any possibility of loss of control, she’d also missed out on affection. On desire.
And on love.
That thought shimmered to life as she kissed Rafe, her hands cradling his cheeks as he made love to her with his mouth.
She’d missed out on this. The life-affirming joy of falling in love. And she couldn’t think of a better time to start making up for it.
“Love me, Rafe. Here. Now.”
* * *
Rafe heard her, yet wasn’t quite sure he could believe it. Lifting his lips from hers, he searched her gaze for any hint that she wasn’t ready for what flared between them. “Are you sure? Here?”
“Yes and yes.” A bright, gorgeous smile lit her lips. “If you don’t mind a striptease that includes cargos and a tank top.”
“I can’t think of anything sexier.”
“Well, then. How can I resist?”
You can’t. Because we’re meant for each other.
It was irrational and unexpected and in complete odds with his life and his personal code, but as primal need rose up in his chest, Rafe found he wasn’t in the mood to analyze it. It just was.
He wanted Evangeline.
And for some glorious reason she wanted him back. After all they’d shared, all he’d revealed and, hardest of all, what he’d done, she still wanted him.
Wanted what was between them.
He kissed her again, his lips finding hers, his tongue sweeping into her mouth before the sensual contact abruptly ended. The long, lithe body that filled his hands vanished as well as Evangeline danced out of his reach. “I promised you that striptease.”
“I’d rather strip you myself.”
“That’s just too bad.” She pointed toward the leather couch in the corner of his office. “Settle in and enjoy the show.”
Rafe did as he was ordered, the carefree smile on her face as much of an enticement as her slender stomach, revealed as her tank rose up at her waist. Her hands drifted briefly over her skin, lightly caressing that visible expanse before drifting toward the closure of her pants. Her fingers hovered over the button that centered just below her navel and he itched to leap forward and undo it himself.
Heat suffused him, of a far different nature than the fire that lived beneath his skin. Where one inside provided a renewal of flesh and bone, muscle and sinew, this was a fire that stoked the spirit. Higher and higher, his fever rose as he watched Evangeline dance, her moves as old as time yet agelessly fresh.
Endlessly enticing.
Moment after moment spun out, as sleek as silk and stronger than steel, as each article of clothing fell to the side. What she missed in expertise, she more than made up for in eagerness and Rafe was captivated. Captured in her spell and unwilling to look away, even for a moment.
“You’ve grown quiet.” Evangeline danced closer, now clad in nothing but bra and panties. The material that covered her was barely scraps, surprisingly sexy underwear for a woman who dug in the dirt around his hotel all day.
“Looks like you’ve kept a few secrets hidden under your wardrobe, Ms. Kennedy.”
“A girl’s got to have a few secrets.”
Unwilling to wait a moment longer to touch her, Rafe came off the couch in one swift move, dragging her into his arms. “I couldn’t be happier you’re willing to share them with me.”
“You’re the only one I want to share them with.”
The restraint he had to exhibit outside on the lawn vanished as he was finally able to pull her fully into his arms. He was desperate for her, the feel of her skin under the pads of his fingers driving that temperature ever higher.
How had he lived without this? Hell, it wasn’t so much about living without it; he’d not even known it existed. Every moment up until now had been an illusion—a half life—now that he had Evangeline in his arms.
And Rafe refused to waste any more time.
He used his position near the couch to walk them both backward, pulling her into his arms and dragging them down onto the well-padded leather. He used the drop to pull her on top of his lap, positioning her legs on either side of his thighs. Unwilling to give her a moment to catch her breath, he used her position to set the pace, his fingers slipping beneath the edge of her panties to the hot, wet heat of her core.
He devoured her high-pitched scream with a kiss, well aware his office was private but not soundproof. Her muffled moan was the sweetest music as he played her flesh, slipping first one, then a second finger into her tight warmth. That luscious heat captured him, utterly responsive to his touch as he pushed her higher and higher toward her climax.
He felt the quivers begin from the inside and used the telltale signs of her body to push her over to completion. With one hand firmly anchoring her back, he lifted his gaze to watch her, utterly captivated as her head fell back, her body suffused in pleasure.
An answering response began from somewhere deep inside of him. It came from his very center, beyond who he was—even beyond who he knew himself to be—as he watched Evangeline in the throes of her orgasm.
She was a gift beyond measure and he marveled at the deep pleasure he drew from simply watching her.
The moments drifted by, the urgent demands of his still-unsated body fading as they hung, suspended in the moment. Slowly, she came back to herself, a lopsided grin filling her face when she finally opened her eyes and glanced down at their bodies. “I think we forgot something.”
“You think so?”
“Since you’re still fully clothed, I’d say yes.”
“I prefer to think of the last little while as our first course.”
“We’re not having dinner.”
He leaned forward to nip a kiss just
below her ear. “No, but we are feasting.”
A soft sigh slipped from her lips, whispering across his ear. He thought it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.
“You’re an awfully patient man.”
Her words stilled his motions as he kissed a path along her neck. He’d never have described himself in that way. In fact, he’d often thought his impatience was one of his less favorable traits. “You think so? I never considered myself particularly good at patience.”
“Then you don’t see what I see.”
Even though it was an odd conversation to have partway through making love, Rafe was curious enough to hear her out. “I’m hardly a patient man, Evangeline.”
“Don’t confuse knowing what you want with impatience. One suggests an ability to leap on opportunity when it’s presented or to make one when none exists. Impatience, on the other hand, is plowing ahead without any sense of why you’re pushing or where you’re going.”
It was an interesting observation and one he’d never heard before.
“There are many who say Las Vegas was founded on impatience.”
“For the gambler, yes. For those who chose to make the arid desert their home, I’d say it’s opportunity.”
Since her observation closely hit on all the reasons his grandfather and extended family had settled in Las Vegas so many decades prior, he could only stop and stare.
“People confuse quick decisions with an inability to be patient and the two aren’t related.” It was her turn to lean forward and press her lips to his. “While I’d like to point to our current situation as a textbook example of same, I find I’m too impatient to see what comes next to fully make my point.”
“This isn’t about opportunity?”
“You and me, perhaps.” She reached for the buttons on his shirt. “These clothes. Now these are all about impatience.” When she leaned in and pressed her lips to his throat, Rafe suddenly realized the question of opportunity or impatience was rather moot.
Evangeline was in his arms and that was all that mattered.
* * *
The clothing that had provided such a barrier between their skin vanished in moments. Rafe quickly obliged her by standing and shucking the rest of it off, rather than try to disrobe from beneath her, and in moments had her flat beneath him on his office couch. She heard the discreet crinkle of a condom and knew where he’d stashed it on the floor in close reach, touched at his level of concern for her.
Her bra and panties quickly followed at the lightest touch of his fingers before he covered her fully with his body.
“You’re sure you want this?”
The question was so unexpected—especially after what they’d already shared—that she stopped her exploration of the firm lines of his chest, her gaze lifting to meet his. “How can you ask me that?”
“It’s just that. Today. After today. Earlier, outside. There’s no going back from here.”
She lifted her head to press a soft, gentle kiss to his lips, his brief moment of hesitance melting her insides to a warm, gooey caramel consistency. His question was so at odds with the firm erection that pressed against her thigh and the erotic moments they’d already shared, she couldn’t imagine he was nearing the point of pain with his need for release.
Yet he’d again show his care and his concern.
“I’ve never been more sure about anything. Ever. You protected me. You took care of me. And while I wouldn’t call this gratitude sex, I don’t want to go back. I want to go forward.” She pressed one more kiss against his lips, the chaste press of flesh a subtle—yet perfect—complement to their nakedness. “I want to go forward with you.”
Whether they were words he was waiting to hear or the deeper acceptance of who he was, Evangeline wasn’t sure. But when he quickly pulled on the condom, then positioned himself at the opening of her body, she suddenly found she didn’t care.
The hard thrusts of his body took hers back to the edge of reason and she opened herself up to the magic that lived between them.
His long, sure strokes set the rhythm and she tapped into that primal beat, matching him as he moved. Thrust for thrust, she met him at every moment, straining for what she knew he offered. Tremors rocked through her body, every inch of her flesh sensitized to the feel of him. With her lips, she traced a path across the rounded strength of his shoulder, the slightly tangy taste a heady mix of salt and sweat that only added another dimension to the moment.
He was hers.
All that strength and power and heat was for her.
Strained for her. Reached for her. And, when the moment was absolutely perfect, released for her. Evangeline knew the moment his control neared its breaking point and allowed her body to follow along, falling with him into the spiraling abyss of passion and all-consuming need.
But it was the very last moment, just before her world shattered, that she knew she’d treasure forever.
In the quietest tones, with a whisper of reverence, he uttered her name. “Evangeline.”
And she knew she’d never be the same.
* * *
Joy suffused her limbs as she lay in the circle of Rafe’s arms, her body still quivering from the crazy-amazing moments they’d shared.
“You okay?”
“Hmm?” Evangeline turned to Rafe with a sleepy smile, the thick plushness of the carpet beneath her back like a bed of roses.
“Did I hurt you?”
Shock painted his gaze when she didn’t answer immediately and she couldn’t hold back the giggle at the panic that tightened his frame and drew his mouth into a dark frown. Lifting up, she pressed a hard, smacking kiss to those down-turned lips before settling back against his side. “Rafe Stavros. I feel so good I’m surprised a unicorn hasn’t walked through that door, ready to deliver Christmas presents.”
The rumble started low in his chest before gathering steam. It felt good to make him laugh, but it felt even better to do it together. Long moments later, as they both wiped away tears, he struggled to sit up. “Unicorns?”
“With Christmas presents. Don’t forget that part.” She glanced around. “Speaking of which, where’s your tree?”
“What tree?”
“Your Christmas tree?”
“Don’t you think we have enough in the lobby? I think you bought out a forest with the budget for the front entrance.”
“But you need one in here.”
At his lack of comprehension she jumped to her feet, uncaring of her nakedness. “You really have nothing? No decorations or greens or even a few desk ornaments? It’s so sterile and imperious in here.”
“Imperious?”
“You know you love it.” He took a moment but when he finally nodded—imperiously—she pressed on. “You need a Christmas tree and decorations. I’ve got some fresh greens I can bring up and a tree.”
“I don’t need those things.”
“Why not? It’s Christmas.”
“I never bother. The hotel’s filled with festive cheer. I don’t need a forest in my office or my home.”
She stilled, well aware her mouth had dropped. “You don’t have a tree in your home?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“What if I catch it on fire?”
“You make it a habit to just burst into flame?” Before he could answer, she added, “When you’re not running yourself ragged and entertaining high rollers too late into the night.”
“No, of course I don’t.”
With a soft shake of her head, she was already six steps ahead, gathering what she needed in her mind. “You’re such a holiday downer. You do realize you’re on the verge of killing my unicorn?”
“I what?”
“But don’t worry. I have just the thing to bring her
back to life.”
Chapter 9
Evangeline fussed over the tree skirt, fluffing and refluffing the tartan plaid material. Although she’d been impressed with the ruthless efficiency of the “supply closet,” as the hotel’s prop room was called, she’d had little use up until now for things that had been used in the past. Each of her installations had to be newer and better than what had come before.
But as a shopping exercise—oh, man, had she hit the mother lode.
Betsy, the closet’s owner and resident drill sergeant, had stoically stared at her for the first ten minutes but had reluctantly—then happily—gotten into the act. The two of them had ripped open boxes full of decorations, raided bins of ornaments and found themselves tangled in about one thousand yards of garland before they realized each had been digging through opposite ends.
By the time they finished, Evangeline had found just what she’d come for. She’d tackled Rafe’s office first, his admin ushering her in in secret once Rafe left to glad-hand the high rollers. They’d put up the tree and efficiently decorated it in muted golds and powerful reds, scurrying back out of his office like little elves nearly an hour later.
Satisfied the office was no longer a dismal, commanding wasteland of power and ruthless efficiency, she moved on to the coup de grâce. His apartment.
Rafe had given her the keys earlier, inviting her to make herself comfortable before he joined her for dinner. She’d used the time to her advantage, setting up the tree on its stand and laying down the tartan as a tree skirt.
The decorating, they’d do together.
Standing back, she assessed the towering tree and the boxes of ornaments she’d lugged up earlier. Reds and greens, golds and silvers reflected light back into the room, a vivid display of holiday cheer.
Would Rafe enjoy it? Did he even realize what he was missing?
Perhaps a better question, Evangeline realized, was if she understood what she’d been missing.
