by Alison Mello
“Babe, open the door. I don’t care if you’ve been sick. Just open up.” He leaned his forehead against the door with his palm flat. A short click and Summer faced him. Thick black smudges lay beneath her eyes, and her cheeks were paler than normal. She wiped her mouth with her hand, and he stepped back to let her pass as she headed for the sink. Bending over the white porcelain bowl, she ran the tap, splashed her cheeks, and wiped off her makeup, but slid him a sideways glance.
“Are you stalking me?”
Leaning his arm against the wall as he studied her, he smiled a little. She was standing and coherent, so not too bad, but testy, and emotional judging by the tears.
“Nope, not my style, Summer. I’m with friends, and yet, here you are in trouble again.”
She pressed her hands on the sink and rocked on her heels, sucking in the air. Summer let the tap run and ducked her head to drink the water, swishing it around her mouth before spitting it out. He smiled at her performance as she held her hair to the side, drinking. Her pale skin glowed, and he saw the curve of her breast as she dipped low in the red dress that clung to her every fuckin’ curve. Switching the faucet off, Summer lifted her head and wiped her mouth with her hand.
“I’m feeling a little better now. I rarely drink, but tonight, I’ve had too much.” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”
Pushing away from the wall, Rafe trudged several steps to stand behind her, studying the picture they made in the large rectangular mirror. Even now like this she stole his breath. Rafe pressed his hands down on her shoulders, making her jerk her head up. Staring at Summer in the mirror, he watched as her eyes rested on him, and pink spots appeared on her cheeks. His touch affected her, and as he studied the pulse that beat in her neck, it rose.
“Why tonight?”
He couldn’t resist asking. There were seven years between them, and that had never been an issue, but Summer wasn’t someone who would drink to excess without a reason. If they were celebrating, she would have one or two, but never more because on those rare occasions, a third would result in her demons resurfacing, which she hated. It was on one of those occasions that she had blurted out about cutting herself as a teenager. She despised herself when she lost control because it opened old wounds. Which was why Rafe needed to know why she had tonight.
And he knew how to coerce her into submission.
Automatically, he rubbed her tense shoulders and let his hands slide slowly down her arms to coax her to relax. As she was wearing a sleeveless red dress, his palms met her warm skin, and he stepped in close to let her back smooth against the planes of his chest. As their bodies fit together, Summer softened into him, and he could have sworn he heard her moan, but her lips were closed, and her eyelashes fluttered on her cheeks.
“Please stop,” she said in a hushed voice. Her words came out breathy and quiet, as if she didn’t mean them.
“Tell me why you drank the wine, Summer, and I will.” Rafe lifted her hair from the side and flicked it over her shoulder away from her neck, leaving it exposed. Dipping his head, he pressed his lips to kiss the skin there, and her chest rose.
“Summer…”
Raising his hand, he cupped her breast and massaged the tight bud through the silky material, his eyes fixed upon her face as her mouth parted. Fearing what she may say, he twisted her around to face him. He couldn’t stay in the ladies’ restroom all night, and any minute now someone would walk in.
“Tell me,” he asked.
She blinked and flashed her lashes at him, lowering her gaze. “You.”
Hearing her admission sent his heart racing. He understood a battle reigned inside her; he was all kinds of chaos that confused her. They needed to clear the air and talk.
“Okay, well, now we’ve cleared that up, I’m taking you home. No arguments, Summer. You’ll explain to Mr. Loverboy out there you don’t feel well, and I’ll drive you home.”
He looked into her hooded, dark eyes, which fluttered, and her plump, pink lips opened to form a large O. But no words followed. Summer pressed her hands over his chest and slapped him.
She tilted her head back to stare at him. “I can’t just up and leave with you. Besides, you said you’re with friends.”
“Do you want Loverboy to take you home?”
A sharp frown marred her features, and he had the answer he wanted.
“He’s a good man, Rafe, and he’s not going to be happy. He doesn’t trust you.”
Well, that works both ways.
“I don’t give a crap what he thinks. Does the suit have a name?”
He was being more heavy-handed than he intended, but hell, seeing Summer like this pissed him off. A need to fix this rose. And he was done pussyfooting around for tonight.
“Charlie.” She swayed, and he circled her waist, drawing her flush against his side to steady her as she walked. The door banged behind them.
“Everything okay in there?” Loverboy was getting impatient.
“What’s his full name, Summer?” Rafe checked around to search for her bag, knowing she must have one.
“Charles—Wilson. He’s a gentleman,” she said as she hiccuped.
Holding her, he guided her outside, and standing there was Charlie. He grabbed the black bag the man clutched in his hand and inhaled a breath. Summer clung to him; her hand gripped his jeans to the point he could feel her nails scraping his back. The touch on his skin was electrifying.
“Thanks for your help, but I can take over from here,” said Charles Wilson.
Rafe eyed the man up and down before he brushed past him. Leaving him behind, he strode through the bar, only to halt as Gabriel and Chayton stood side by side in front of him like a brick wall.
“Don’t say a word, either of you. I’m warning you. Don’t stand in my way, either.”
The two muscle-clad warriors parted to let him through.
“You’re breaking your promise, Rafe, but hell, you were crazy to make it in the first place.”
Rafe nodded at Gabriel. He knew the damn reasons, but that was then. All the reasons flew around him like ghosts as he took each step.
Guilt? Self-loathing? A borderline alcoholic?
However, pressing on him was the fact once upon a time, he promised Summer to love her for better or worse. And this sure as shit counted for worse.
A thump in his left shoulder knocked him forward, but he steadied himself and twisted around to face the culprit.
“Let her go. Who the hell are you? Summer, come with me!” Charles shouted.
The man had some balls, after all.
Rafe stared down at the slender woman in his arms who nestled in against him. She was awake but sleepy. The yelling brought her to attention, yet she didn’t pull away from his clasp. He watched as Summer wet her lips, stood up taller, and pressed her hand on his chest.
“I’m sorry, Charlie. This is Rafe, the man I told you about. I need to go home,” she said in an even tone, and he rubbed the space in the small of her back.
“You hardly know him, Summer.” Charles moved in closer, as if ready to play a tug-of-war.
Rafe edged closer too and opened his mouth to answer, but Summer beat him to it.
“I trust him. That’s all I need to know. I’m sorry.” As she dipped her head, Rafe knew she was exhausted mentally and physically. Summer had made her decision, and that was that.
Rafe studied the man whose focus remained on the woman in his arms. He didn’t feel pity for him, but he didn’t want any trouble either. His two friends stationed themselves behind Charles, waiting to intercede if needed, but as he glanced at Charles, he hoped the man had the sense not to because he didn’t want to create a scene and he wouldn’t win.
“You heard the lady. She needs to go home, and I’m going to make sure…”
Charles launched his left fist at his face, but Rafe darted sideways to dodge the blow. Gabriel and Chayton launched at Loverboy, grabbing his arms back, restraining
him. Rafe sighed.
Shit, I don’t want a fight.
He stared as Charles struggled and a crowd gathered.
“Let him go,” Rafe shouted.
Charles stomped over to him, standing toe-to-toe, right in his face like a steaming bull.
God, I don’t want this, but there is no way in hell I’m letting Summer leave with anyone else.
“Charles, Summer is coming with me whether you like it or not. Talk to her tomorrow, if you must, but right now, she needs me, and I’m not afraid to be whatever she wants me to be. I don’t want to hurt you, man, but if you take another step, you’ll hit the floor.”
All the time, Rafe kept his eyes trained on Charles. He didn’t shout, but his words held power and meaning. Charles’s shoulders sagged, and he flicked his gaze at Summer, who blinked and pressed her hand on her forehead, frowning.
Loverboy peered at him once more. “I don’t know who you are, but I will find out. You may have her fooled but not me. I’ll call in the morning to make sure you’re all right, Summer.”
Summer nodded, and Charles tugged down the sleeves of his starched white shirt before he vanished into the sea of people who stood around.
Rafe nodded at his friends and headed for the exit. He wanted to get Summer home as soon as possible. She was shaking in his arms.
Damn her.
Marching outside, he guided her toward the Harley as quickly as he could.
“Rafe, stop. Are you sure about this?”
Gabriel stood there with Chayton marching toward them.
“I know what I said inside, but Niall will kick my butt if I didn’t try to talk some sense into you.”
“Look, I don’t have a choice. She needs me.”
Both men were equal in height, but the similarities ended there. Gabriel was the joker in the pack, with bright-red hair and pale skin, whereas Chayton was African American, with a shaved head, and intense.
Rafe helped settle Summer on the bike. She lifted her head a fraction and smiled at his friends. “He’s okay with me, guys. I won’t”—hiccup—“hurt him.” She giggled. She flopped forward, and he reached out to hold her steady as he placed his helmet on her head.
“Will you be all right?” Chayton asked.
Rafe arched an eyebrow and nodded toward Summer. “She’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“She’s as deadly as an IED,” said Gabriel, “but I get it. Go before her date decides to take another shot.”
He slid over the front of the bike and directed Summer’s arms around his waist. “Hold me tight, okay?”
“I won’t let go. Don’t worry about me.”
She leaned flush against his back, and he glanced over his shoulder at the woman who rested her head on his back, trusting him with her safety again. Molded against him, the wind blew her dress, and the material fluttered up to reveal the tops of her thighs. Gabriel was right—this was explosive.
CHAPTER 8
Summer
Summer’s exposed skin broke out in goosebumps as the cold wind blew, and she edged closer into Rafe’s broad back on the bike. Her head buzzed with the alcohol, and as she closed her eyes, the world shifted. Pain throbbed in her head, and she pressed her lips tight, wondering how the hell she had allowed herself to be in this position again.
Vulnerable. Exposed. Horny.
She coiled herself around Rafe as he navigated his bike around the twisting bends with expertise, his speed faster than last time, which she didn’t mind at all. The nausea had gone, along with the contents of her stomach earlier. Now she found the roar and power of the bike vibrating beneath her exhilarating. Or was it because her arms were wrapped around Rafe?
This man she hardly knew, who frequented the diner, stirred feelings that rocked her shaky foundation. She acted differently around him. Earlier, she couldn’t believe when she walked in The Bar and he was there, like her constant shadow. If she wasn’t nervous enough being on the first date in ages, seeing Rafe made her heart spin and soar. Charlie paled to insignificance. Rafe was all male, predatory and powerful, whereas Charlie was the boy next door—way too nice.
Summer didn’t mean to get tipsy tonight, but thoughts of Rafe consumed her. The idea of having a glass of wine before she left seemed a good way to help her relax for the date. But the second one at The Bar was more than she could handle. Swooning on the dance floor when she couldn’t catch a breath with the heat bearing down like the midday sun in the Sahara left her like a wilted flower. None of which, however, explained how she ended up on the back of Rafe’s bike with Charlie a blur on the distant horizon. A hysterical laugh bubbled inside, and she couldn’t help but release it, lost in the growl of the bike.
What a mess.
She would phone Charlie and apologize, but there would be no more dates with the man. Although Rafe terrified her, there was an undeniable connection she couldn’t ignore.
This is crazy.
She sighed and pressed her head against his back for comfort, and his hand stroked hers in front.
Tingles immediately erupted from the pit of her stomach, and her insides melted, leaving her languid. Rafe had interceded again. The last time, she had pushed him away. Perhaps the attraction she felt had more to do with the fact he was unobtainable because he was married. She seemed to fall for the bad boys. But who was Rafe Bryant?
The rumble of the bike softened, and the familiar tree-lined road appeared. He parked on the small area paved for vehicles. Without waiting and feeling nervous, Summer removed the helmet, shoved it at him, and slid off the bike to back away.
Rafe switched around, gripping her hands as she studied her feet. “There’s no need to run from me, Summer.”
Oh, he’s so wrong. There’s every need.
Just the touch of his hand branded her skin, and she craved things she shouldn’t. Lifting her head, she studied his sculpted face, which stared down at her with his penetrating ice-blue eyes that pierced deep inside her heart. She shifted away.
“Thanks for bringing me home, but I’ll be fine now.”
She stepped back, but Rafe prowled toward her, and when she stumbled, he caught her elbow to steady her. Her heart fluttered wildly. He brushed her hair to the side, and she froze holding her breath as she peered at him. He ran his gaze over the front of her dress to where the material ended and back up to her face. Her entire body went up in flames as his eyes undressed her, and she quivered, wanting him to explore her everywhere with his tongue.
“That color suits you. You look amazing,” he said with a gravelly tone that raised the hairs along her neck. He leaned over and whispered against her bare neck, sending shivers charging down her spine. “I want you, Summer, and I know you want me, but—”
She shoved his chest with her hand, knowing the words that would come next. We can’t. Rafe grabbed her around the waist. Aroused but needing to be free of the man, she stamped on his foot to push him away. One minute, she was all hot with desire, and the next, she was steaming angry, but instead of him letting go, Rafe hoisted her off the ground and threw her over his broad shoulders. She screeched as her stomach pressed down over his rock-hard muscles, and she lifted her head as ladylike as possible to stop the dizzy sensation that crawled through her once more.
“Put me down. Please put me down and let me go.”
The infuriating man didn’t answer but marched ahead until they were inside her cold living room. Once inside, he still didn’t let go until he reached the couch, where he set her down gently and leaned over her close. Way too close.
“Damn it, Summer, your door was unlocked again. If you don’t listen to me, I’m going to have to resort to harsher measures to gain your attention. Now, I’m going to get you some buttered toast and water. You’re going to stay here and listen to me…for once.”
“I’m pretty sure I locked it. I’m not a complete idiot,” she said, lifting out of her seat to go and check, but he blocked her progress.
“The lock is useless and needs to be changed. N
o more arguments.” He breathed over her. His confident and intense gaze roamed over her face, liquidizing her insides, and she sat back down, not wanting to discuss the door any more right now. Wanting something far more dangerous from the man. Lying back, she lifted her legs up and flipped on her side as she watched the broody hunk of hard virility wander around her kitchen, being domestic and making her food. Feeling so relaxed, her eyelids grew heavy. A calmness invaded, and she fell asleep.
Summer sat in the window seat with her gaze studying the heavy downpour that steamed the windows. Lifting her hand, she wiped the glass to make a clear spot to check the passersby, searching for his face. The growl of her belly drew her away, and she picked up the menu, but a wave of nausea crept up. She blew out several deep breaths, hoping the sensation would pass. Tonight was important in many ways. She ripped off a piece of bread from the basket on the table. A quick glance at the clock confirmed he was late. Would he even bother to turn up? Everything used to be so different. Would her news change anything?
“Summer.”
Startled by the familiar voice, she opened her eyes as a tear slipped down her cheek and she jerked upright, shocked at the memory. Unsettled, she didn’t move, even as Rafe continued to talk and place a plate on the table in front of her. The vivid memory stirred inside, and she frowned, concentrating hard to pull more threads of that night together. But she couldn’t. Instead, she covered her face with her hands and burst into tears.
“Summer, what’s wrong?” The weight shifted on the couch, and he hoisted her onto his lap, surrounding her with his strong arms, which grounded her.
Automatically, she curled into him and clutched his shirt, sobbing. Waves of emotion coursed through her, making her frantic and yet happy. She had only closed her eyes for a moment, but the scene had been vivid and clear. She was waiting for someone in La Rosa’s in Boston. She knew that restaurant because it was her favorite.
