by Nika Rhone
Like unhooking her bra and sliding it along her upraised arms until it was twisted around her wrists, loosely binding them together. Her heart kicked into the next gear as moisture pooled between her legs, saturating her already soaked panties. She groaned against Rafe’s mouth.
“Querida, you have no idea what it does to me when you make that sound.” He growled when Lillian nipped at his lower lip.
“Probably the same thing it does to me when you make that one.” She knew she was playing with fire. But Rafe brought out a side of her she’d never gotten to explore before, one that he seemed to enjoy as much as she did.
“You’ll pay for that.”
Her ass cheeks tingled in anticipation. Her excitement must have shown on her face, because Rafe groaned again, pressing his forehead to hers. Even through his pants she could feel the steel-hard press of him against the V of her thighs.
Lillian wet her lips. “Big talk from a man who still has all his clothes on.”
A slow grin split his handsome face. “Was that a challenge I just heard?”
In answer, she gave him the same air-kiss she’d used to taunt him in the past. Only this time there wasn’t any door closing between them. There was no escape. She was at his complete and utter mercy. A fact that, judging by the way his already hard erection twitched against her, aroused them both.
When he stood and started taking off his clothes, he did it with such slow deliberateness that by the time he was down to his stretchy black boxer briefs, Lillian was panting like a racehorse after the Kentucky Derby. He knew exactly what he was doing too, the rat, because he never once broke eye contact. His focus was all on her and her reactions to what he was doing.
Stripping for Rafe had always felt erotic. Watching him strip for her, though, was a hundred times more titillating. When his hands eased that last barrier down his legs, his erection bouncing free and straining toward his belly, Lillian’s girly parts started to party in anticipation. At that moment, a good, stiff breeze would have sent her over the edge.
Something Rafe seemed to sense, because he ignored that part of her needing relief most when he rejoined her on the bed. Instead, he focused on the rest of her body, starting at her bound wrists and slowly inching his way down. By the time he got to her feet, every nerve ending in her body was singing the halleluiah chorus despite the fact he’d avoided every single obvious erogenous zone along the way.
The panting had turned to moaning as she squirmed under his unrelenting sensual assault. If she didn’t get to come in the next ten seconds, swear to God she would twitch her way right out of her skin. “Rafe, please.”
All it took was the touch of his tongue on her clit to send her screaming over the edge. Her entire body shook with the force of the orgasm. When she finally came back down to Earth, she saw Rafe waiting between her legs, watching her as he stroked his erection. Her gaze focused on the drop of moisture the motion squeezed from his tip. She licked her lips. “Yes. Now.”
“No. Not yet.” He gave himself one last stroke before letting go. “I’m not nearly done here yet.”
Her words of protest were sucked away when his mouth found her already swollen folds. If she thought his tongue knew wicked ways with her mouth, that was nothing compared to the way he played her body like a maestro, wringing another orgasm out of her in record time as he slid two long fingers deep into her and found her G spot.
Once more she came down from her orgasmic high to find him watching. Waiting. Stroking.
It was too much.
Reaching out her bound arms toward him, she said, “Love me, Rafe. Please.” Don’t ever let me go.
As always, he seemed to hear what she didn’t say out loud. He untangled the bra and tossed it aside, freeing her before he stroked his fingertips over her face. “You are mi corazón, my heart. My soul. My other half. How could I exist without you?”
Quickly sheathing himself, he laced his fingers with hers and pressed into her with one swift thrust. Her body, already heavy with pleasure, welcomed him home. His gaze never left hers and they strained against each other in a slow tempo that drove them both wild with the need for the other to be the first to go. Finally, they both went over.
Together.
****
“I have a bone to pick with you.”
Still lethargic from the orgasm that had nearly ripped his spine from his body, Rafe stroked a hand over Lillian’s shoulder. From where she was nestled against his side, he didn’t have a clear view of her face. But her voice sounded more dreamy than pissed, so he figured he couldn’t be in too much trouble.
Especially not after the past hour, and three back-to-back orgasms.
“And what would that be?”
“You went back into a burning building for a bunch of paintings.”
With everything else that had happened, he’d forgotten about that. “I guess that means you found them. Were they damaged at all? You weren’t sure if the panic room was fireproof, so mmph.”
Her hand over his mouth, Lillian rose up on an elbow to look down at him, her expression stern. “You risked your life. For some stupid paintings. You idiot.”
Kissing her hand before he removed it, Rafe replied, “It was a calculated risk. I had a few minutes before things got too dicey.” Actually, things had gotten kind of dicey long before those minutes had been up. Not that he’d ever admit it to Lillian, who was shaking her head at him, a look of disbelief etching lines beside her kiss-swollen mouth.
“Don’t you ever, ever do something like that again, do you hear me? I couldn’t stand it if…if something happened to you.”
The tiny hitch in her voice nearly killed him. “I have a dangerous job, querida. I’ll be in dangerous situations again. Risk my life again. It’s part of the package that comes with me being who I am. You know that, right?”
She sniffed. “Of course, I do. But that’s different. That’s your job. This…this was about saving things. You are worth more than things.”
“It was a year’s worth of your hard work.”
“I don’t care if it was an entire lifetime of work! You’re still worth more to me, dumbass.”
She really meant that. The sheen of tears that darkened her bitter-chocolate eyes was proof. She honestly didn’t give a rat’s furry ass-crack about the paintings, not when compared to putting his life in jeopardy. It was a humbling feeling. But he still would have done the same thing all over again, because it hadn’t been about the paintings. It had been about Lillian, and her dream. He’d put himself on the line every damn time for that.
For her.
Putting his hand on the back of her neck, he brought her down for a kiss. His fingers traced around to the bandage, stomach roiling at the memory of that bitch holding the knife to Lillian’s vulnerable throat. “This should never have happened. I should have been able to stop her sooner.”
“Are you kidding? If you hadn’t shown up when you did, she would have killed me. If you hadn’t gotten her talking, she would have killed me. If you hadn’t shot her…” She shuddered. “Trust me. If it’s a choice between being killed or getting a few stitches, I’ll take Option B every day of the week.” She nipped his chin. “Don’t let my brothers get inside your head. You saved me. Full stop. Period.” Another nip came on his earlobe.
“What are you doing?”
“Thanking you.” Nip. “Distracting you.” Nip. “Is it working?”
He groaned as her teeth grazed his right nipple. “Madre de Dios.”
“I’ll take that as a yes, please, may I have some more.”
The groan turned into a laugh. “Wicked woman.” He grabbed her arms and rolled, putting her under him. He stared into her laughing eyes. “I don’t care what your brothers, or my sisters, or anybody else has to say about us. I love you.” He felt her breath catch, saw her eyes turn serious. “I love you,” he repeated. That was the one thing he wanted to make certain she had zero doubt about. “Nothing else matters to me. Except whether or not y
ou feel the same.”
“You know I do.” As if sensing that he needed to hear the words, she said with slow deliberation, “I love you, Rafael Delgado. You came steamrolling into my life, messed up my plans, and snuck right into my heart. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Dios, this woman.
Stroking her cheek with the back of his fingers, he said, “You are everything to me, my sweet little pixie. There isn’t a single part of you I don’t adore.”
Lillian grinned. “Well, maybe not my pre-coffee bitch-face.”
“Even that.”
“Wow.” She pressed her cheek into his fingers like a cat. “You must really love me, then.”
“I do, mi corazón. I truly do.”
Her eyes took on that spark of challenge he could never resist. “Prove it.”
So he did.
Epilogue
It was really happening.
Standing in the middle of the gallery, Lillian still couldn’t quite believe it. So many years, so many dreams, and now everything she’d ever wished for was right here at her fingertips. Literally. Squeezing Rafe’s hand as much to keep herself anchored as for the enjoyment of touching him, she gave him a smile that had his jaguar-green eyes darkening.
“Don’t you dare start something we can’t finish, mi pequeña duendecilla,” he whispered when she stroked a fingernail down the center of his palm. “This is your night. We’re not disappearing into the storage room for a quickie while you’ve got guests who want to meet you and buy your amazing paintings.”
The reminder of the intense ten minutes they’d spent in that storage room during the setup for the show sent a flash of heat through her body. Not her most professional moment, but she wouldn’t have traded it for the world. Especially not the look of envy on Felicity’s face when they emerged, slightly disheveled and thoroughly relaxed. It was a good thing she didn’t work there anymore, or she would have been out of a job.
“You’re right. It is my night.” She leaned closer until her lips were against his ear. “Which means I get to have whatever I want.” The tip of her tongue touched the outer shell of his ear, causing him to growl.
“Lillian…”
“Later.” She pulled back and gave him a smile of promise.
Which he returned with interest. “Count on it, bruja.”
The way he called her a witch in that gravelly baritone always sent a shiver of something wicked through her. Oh yeah, later was going to be spectacular. Especially when he found out about the little surprise she had for him.
Her nipples with their new piercings throbbed in anticipation.
“Lil!”
She turned and found herself engulfed in a hug from Thea that knocked the breath out of her.
“Oh my God, Lil! Your stuff. It’s amazing!” She smacked Lillian’s arm. “Why didn’t you ever show me any of these? They’re incredible!”
The effusive praise from her bestie was like extra whipped cream on her hot chocolate. It made a good thing even better. “Thanks, T. That means a lot.”
“She’s right.” Doyle leaned down to kiss Lillian’s cheek before shaking Rafe’s hand. “Your paintings are amazing. In fact, she’s already picked out the one she wants to hang in my office.”
Shock and delight had Lillian’s cheeks heating. “What? Seriously? No, you don’t have to do that.”
“We’re not talking a pity purchase here,” Thea said. “I’d want to hang it no matter who the artist was. It’s not only the right hues for the space, it’ll always make sure that even when we’re apart, he’ll be thinking of me.” She gave her husband the kind of smile that used to make Lillian uncomfortable to witness. Now, she understood, because she felt the same way every time she looked at Rafe.
“Wow. Okay. Which painting?” Because she’d take it off the wall and give it to them right now. No way was she taking a dime from her friends.
“Lady Dreaming,” Doyle answered, giving Thea the same soft look of adoration.
Well, crap.
Of course, they’d have to want that one. It made sense, since Thea’s old security name had been the Lady. But as much as she hated to deny them the painting, especially after all that praise, neither Lady Dreaming nor Lady Playing, the piece Rafe dragged down the fire escape just in case his panic room idea didn’t work, were for sale. Rafe had already claimed dibs. She’d agreed to include them in the show as “on loan” because Felix had begged her to—an occasion she enjoyed a lot more than she should have.
As she was trying to come up with a polite way to say no to her friend, Rafe put his arm around her and said, “I’m sorry, but that piece is already spoken for.”
Grateful to him for doing the dirty work for her, Lillian leaned into him a little more before adding, “But I can paint you one similar, if you like.”
The disappointment in Thea’s expression morphed to interest. “That would be fantastic. In fact…” The interest became speculation. “What would you think about doing commissioned pieces for some of my decorating jobs?”
What did she think? The idea rocked her. She was still coming to grips with being considered a real artist. Having her first show. To do commissioned pieces? Holy freaking awesome. “Um, it sounds amazing.” And scary. And crazy perfect.
“Good. We’ll talk.”
“But not tonight,” Doyle said.
“No, not tonight. Tonight is about Lil and her amazing paintings.” Thea hugged her again. “God, I’m so proud of you!”
“That means a lot, T. Thanks.” She had to sniffle a little to hold back the stupid rush of emotion that came from her friend’s words.
“Ah, we’re going to grab you ladies something to drink,” Rafe said, passing her his handkerchief. “Be right back.”
“Chicken,” Lillian mouthed to him with a smile as she dabbed at her eyes. He grinned and didn’t deny it. Even after five months together, he still hated her tears, infrequent as they might be.
The crowd parted like prairie grass for the two tall, broad-shouldered men as they cut across the gallery floor toward the bar set up in the back corner. People probably didn’t even realize they were doing it. Rafe and Doyle were the lions in a room full of well-dressed sheep whose hindbrains knew who the predators were despite the suits and ties.
“God, we did good, didn’t we?” Thea sighed, tucking her arm around Lillian’s waist and tipping her head against hers.
“We really did.” Sometimes she still couldn’t believe how lucky she was.
“Is this a private love-fest or can any old body join in?”
Laughing, Lillian accepted a breath-stifling hug from Des, then watched with amusement as he did the same to Thea. The man showed affection the same way he did everything else: with super-sized enthusiasm.
She gave a huge smile to the man standing behind Des. “Doctor Antonoff. I mean, Michael. Hi.” He kissed her cheek, the restrained greeting neatly balancing Des’s over-the-top one. “Thanks so much for coming.”
“Are you kidding? It’s all Des has talked about for weeks now. No way would we miss your big night.” His surfer look had been tamed with a little hair product and a recent shave. That and the suit gave him a more polished appearance than he’d worn the night he treated her. “We haven’t had a chance to look at everything yet, but I have to say, what we’ve seen so far is fantastic.”
“Beyond fantastic.” Des made a dramatic sweep of his arm. “This is…” His arm dropped, and so did his voice, becoming the honest, personal friend rather than the showman. “Well, it’s you, kitten. Every brushstroke. Every highlight and shadow. These are all you.”
Lillian had to swallow. Hard. No one besides Rafe had ever gotten how much of herself she wove into each of her works. Standing in a room full of her paintings while strangers looked at them kind of felt like being naked. Or at the very least, in her underwear.
“Thank you,” she said to both of them, fighting back another sniffle. She was not going to get weepy again, d
arn it. Waterproof mascara only held up so long before racoon-face became a real possibility.
Lucky for her, Des’s attention was distracted by a waiter passing with a tray of something that smelled incredible even to Lillian’s jittery stomach. “Oh, please tell me that Mama Delgado catered tonight, or my taste buds might never forgive you.”
Lillian laughed. “Your taste buds will go home very happy.” Seeing his attention was still fixed on the roving waiter, who had stopped to offer one of the tasty tidbits to another guest, she rolled her eyes at Michael. “Please, go feed him before he does something embarrassing like start to drool.”
Des flicked a finger over the corners of his mouth. “Too late.”
As the men set off after the waiter, who had moved off in the other direction, Thea gave a happy sigh. “They are so perfect for each other.”
They were.
“And I take full credit.” Lillian had gotten a vibe from Dr. Antonoff the night he treated her. When the time came to get her stitches out, she’d gone back to him rather than her own doctor, and asked Des to go with her for some metaphoric hand holding. The minute Michael entered the exam room, the interest level on both sides jumped off the charts. It had been all Lillian could do to keep from giving a fist-pump.
“So, how does it feel to be back here as the featured artist rather than the manager?”
“Weird,” Lillian admitted. “Good weird, but still weird.”
After the fire, she’d only stayed at the gallery long enough to train her replacement. It was Rafe who had given her the guts to commit to painting full time. He’d told her that until she treated it as the career it was, rather than a hobby, nobody else would either.
Like he was about so many things, he’d been right.
Even her parents had come around. Her father actually bragged about “my daughter the artist” to his friends, which kind of blew Lillian’s mind. She glanced around the room and found them in a group that included Thea’s parents and Roman Reynolds, of all people.