Page 29 of Rafferty

He growls in response, and I can tell he’s not going to let up until he’s satisfied. His tongue moves faster, more urgently now, each stroke sending another wave of pleasure crashing over me. My body begins to tremble, the building tension reaching a point of no return. I can feel the heat of Rafferty’s face against my most intimate parts, his breath now hot and ragged against my skin. His facial stubble deliciously scrapes my inner thighs and I’ll wear those marks as a badge of pleasure tomorrow.

He holds me tighter, his grip on my thighs unyielding as he continues to explore me with his tongue. The room fills with the sounds of our passion—our heavy breathing, the wet slurping noises, and the occasional muffled moan as I cover my mouth with my hand to keep from screaming. It’s like we’re in a world of our own, where nothing else exists but this intense connection between us.

“That’s it,” Rafferty murmurs against my skin, “let go for me.”

I do just that, surrendering to the pleasure that now envelops me completely. My body shudders violently as the orgasm hits, waves of ecstasy crashing over me like a tidal wave. Rafferty’s name is on the tip of my tongue, but never makes it past my ragged breaths.

He doesn’t let up. The man continues his relentless assault on my senses, driving me higher and higher with each stroke of his tongue. His hands never waver, gripping my thighs just as tightly as he seeks to pull me even closer to him. But the intensity is too much to bear and I push against him. “Enough. Please.”

Rafferty chuckles, the rumble causing another tremor of pleasure to zing through me, but he pulls away after placing a gentle kiss between my legs. His head tips back and he locks eyes with mine in a stare that I can’t quite read.

I reach out, trace my thumb over his wet lower lip. “Tell me you have a condom.”

Because I want him to experience pleasure too. And if he didn’t, my mouth works just fine.

He shakes his head, bending it to pull my panties up. “No, but even if I did, this is where we stop.”

His voice is gruff and without seeing his expression, I can’t tell if he thinks this was a mistake.

When he smooths my panties in place, I put my hand under his chin and force him to look at me. “Are you okay?”

And then he smiles and it’s so beautiful, it takes my breath away. “I’m fucking fantastic. I mean… my dick aches because I really want to fuck you, but I’m quite satisfied with how that played out.”

“But… I want you to fuck me too.”

Rafferty stands, letting the material of my dress shimmy back down my legs. His hands go to my hips, his eyes boring into mine as he listens.

“I mean… I want you to have a happy ending too.” I bring my hand to his crotch, feel his erection is still quite thick behind the length of his zipper. “You need a happy ending.”

He circles my wrist, pulling my hand away. “That’s not helping matters.”

“It could if you let me.”

“I will,” he says. “Just not here.”

“When?” I ask.

Rafferty puts his hands to my face, kisses me gently. “We’ll figure it out. But for now, let’s get back to the reception, okay?”

Something doesn’t feel right about this. Ordinarily, I’d say it feels like I just gave up my virginity to a guy and he’s getting ready to blow me off, but that can’t be it. Rafferty got nothing out of that experience. At least not the way I did.

Rafferty takes my hand, leads me to the door, but as he reaches for the lock, I give a little tug. “What if Tansy’s out there?”

“I’m going to tell her to mind her own fucking business,” he growls, but then his hand drops away from the handle. He turns to me. “You know what just happened… it has nothing to do with that woman, right?”

I nod. I do understand that.

But I also understand the reason he’s in this predicament is that he had a one-night stand, which is all he wanted.

As such, I can’t really expect anything more from this man.

I’m not sure why that thought hurts a little, but it does.

CHAPTER 12

Rafferty

The hum ofthe plane melds with the muffled noises of my teammates settling in, their laughter and chatter a backdrop to my own thoughts as we fly southward. I recline in my seat, headphones draped around my neck—not for music, but as a barrier, a sign I’m not quite in the mood to talk. Yet, the music stays off. I need time to think, to brood.

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