Page 60 of Tempting as Sin
She laughed, and knew it wasn’t steady. “Yeah. I’ve never…wow.”
“I wasn’t sure if I was hurting you.”
“No. Or maybe. Can sex feel too good?”
How could you feel somebody’s smile in the dark? “No. And I’m going to put it out there, jealous fella that I am, and say that I’m glad you had a condom, and I’m sorry you did. Also—that I think that was one hell of a condom.”
She rolled over, reached out and found his shoulder, and followed a path until she had a palm on his cheek. “Do you want me to tell you about it?”
He sighed, and she felt that, too. “Yeah. Could be I’ll be sorry, but I do.”
She shoved him gently onto his back, stroked her hand down his chest, and kissed him there. “I haven’t had sex since Antonio. And there was so much hurt there. Not so much physical,” she hurried to add, reading the tension in him. “But sometimes I thought physical was easier. I thought, when it happens again, it’s going to be on my terms. My time. My place. My rules. My condom.” She kissed his chest again, and smiled. “Studded and ribbed, for the lady’s pleasure. I’d heard it felt good. Antonio wouldn’t try it. Never mind why. But I might write a testimonial.”
“Good, eh,” he said. His hand was smoothing her hair, and under her palm, she could feel his heart beat.
“So good. Of course, that might have been you. Can I just say…” She sighed and stroked her hands over him, so glad she was allowed to do it. “I think I’m in love with the werewolf.”
His hand, which had been in her hair, tightened. “I’m not the werewolf.”
Her heart lurched. “Rafe, I’m sorry. I was joking. Hey.” She rose on an elbow and wished she could see him. “I know you’re not. I know who I had with me tonight, and I know how special he was.”
He pulled her down with him, rolled her this time, and kissed her. “Remember that, then.”
How could he make her laugh, make her burn, and touch the most tender piece of her heart, all in the same evening? “I will,” she told him. “I promise.”
He sat up. She could tell, even though she still couldn’t see him. “We never got our picnic. Hungry?”
She smiled. “Starved. And I want some more wine.”
“Well, you worked for it.”
She kissed what she could reach of him, which was the small of his back, then, ran her fingers down it, and felt him respond like he was wired to her. “Yes, I did,” she told him. “And so did you.”
When Rafe woke and realized that morning was well and truly here, Lily was still asleep. On her back, her arm flung up beside her head, and her golden hair streaming around her, looking like an illustration for a fairy tale.
Maybe she was sleepier than usual because, along with the picnic they’d ended up eating in bed by candlelight, they’d finished off the bottle of wine. Or maybe because, when the lights had come back on sometime in the wee hours and he’d got up to turn them off, he’d climbed back into bed again, had given her a cuddle and then a kiss or two, and one thing had led to another. That condom had felt good to her when she was on top of him, too. Her head flung back and her eyes closed, riding him like a Montana cowgirl, to the wild, lonely music of the wind in the pines. A sight and a memory to heat a man’s blood.
All that may have been why, when he woke to find the sun well up and her still sleeping like an angel, he didn’t even think about getting dressed and going home. It wasn’t any possible choice. Instead, he collected his clothes from the floor, then headed for the kitchen by way of the bathroom.
When he came back upstairs again, Lily stirred, then sat up with a jolt, the comforter falling to her waist. “What?” She grabbed for a little rose-gold alarm clock, the wind-up kind, said, “Shoot. Shoot,” and jumped out of bed. Naked, which he appreciated.
When she noticed him, she yelped, then laughed. “I forgot about you. Can you believe that?”
He smiled and handed her a mug. “Not too flattering. Coffee.”
“Oh. Thanks.” She tucked her hair behind an ear and said, “I overslept. Ineveroversleep. I’ve got to be in the store before ten, and it’s eight.Eight.”
“Reckon I’d better give a hand, then,” he said. “What can I do?”
She still looked distracted, as if being late—or maybe not being perfect—was unacceptable, and Rafe smiled at her again, got her to smile back this time, and said, “You’ve got a set of hands here. Put me to work. You could also drink your coffee.”
“Right. Thanks.” She took a sip, then said, “Chuck.”
“Already sorted,” Rafe said. “Took him outside on his leash, so he didn’t aggravate anything. Vet’s orders. He needs to be quiet for a few days, and then the cone can come off. We somehow never got around to discussing that last night, I realized. I gave him breakfast and checked his incisions, also as ordered. Chuck’s all good. Are you planning on taking him to the shop? He might be better off staying with me instead, at the cabin. That’d be less stimulating, surely.”
One hell of a conversation to have with a naked woman. Talking about a goofy, overgrown conehead dog and his indelicate incisions, when what you really wanted was to take said naked woman straight back to bed and love her right.
“Bailey’s coming up at nine to spend the day,” Lily said. “She’s going to do some weeding for me while she’s here, and keep Chuck quiet. I’m alone in the shop on Sunday mornings. And you have your trail ride.”
