by Anthology
She propped one hand on her hip and wagged the other in his direction. “Yes, and don’t you forget it.”
“Then I want to…dance with you, a lot. You’re not leaving for four months, two weeks and one day. I’m going to ask you to some sort of event that has dancing every single week until you leave. And at some point, you’re going to forget that you don’t think we should dance naked.”
Oh god, he had a countdown to when he thought she was leaving. She was doomed in the most delicious way. “That’s not dancing, that’s sex.”
He pressed into her, slowly and deliberately, and lowered his head, stopping just a hair’s breadth away from her mouth. His eyes were dancing, the cocky bastard.
“Why are you so confident this is going to work?”
“Because we’re made for each other, Liv. I can survive without you, but it won’t be living. That’s powerful motivation that we didn’t have the first time round. If you give us another chance, we’re going to get it right. I’m going to get it right.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “You keep saying that.”
“Does it feel like a lie?” His hands dusted her hips, close enough for her to feel the heat radiating against her body.
She shook her head slowly. “I know you’re going to try.”
“I’m going to succeed.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “Rafe, I need to tell you something.”
He stilled around her, a frozen mountain of a man. “Yeah?”
“I might not be moving in March.”
“Oh?”
Why was she dragging this out? Because he’d be happy? Because she wasn’t sure she was happy? Rip off the bandage. The moral of their divorce, really. “They’ve offered me a full-time job for the duration of filming. It’s only until June or July, but—“
She didn’t get any further before his mouth cut her off. Hard and hungry, his kiss poured out two years of pent-up desire and need and pulled her under. She clung to him as he wrapped himself around her, kissing her over and over again. He raked his hands into her hair, loosening her ponytail just enough for his fingers to gain purchase and then he held her head just so as he plundered her mouth.
He licked and sucked and teased, and she gave back as good as she got. He tasted like cold and hot and everything she’d been missing. Her heart pounded in her throat and she wrapped her arms around his neck, sliding her fingers over the shoulder straps of the bullet-proof vest—trying desperately to gain some leverage to pull herself up his body. He splayed his hands, strong and sure, under her bottom and lifted her effortlessly. She wrapped her legs around his hips, awkwardly bumping into his utility belt and all the things attached to it, and they rocked together.
Ten minutes, she reminded herself. He had to go back to work, even if it was just parking lot monitoring. And somewhere nearby was his—
“Rafaelo Minelli, what in God’s name are you doing?” His mother. Holy frigid moment in hell.
Olivia groaned and buried her face in his neck. Rafe froze against her, his grip on her bottom still steady, but any second now he would drop her and she’d be left—
“Go away, Ma.” He brushed a kiss across Olivia’s brow and whispered that he was going to set her down when it became clear that his mother was going to do no such thing. Her feet found the ground and he kept a tight grip on her, making sure she was settled before he turned, keeping her tucked safely behind his back as he took on the dragon lady. “Seriously? You couldn’t turn around and give us a minute?”
“No, and I can’t believe you’d suggest such a thing. You two have no shame.”
“I may have no shame when it comes to my wife. She was dragged in here entirely against her will, I assure you.” He laughed when his mother made a shocked and offended harumphing noise. “What are you doing, spying on me?”
Olivia peeked out from behind Rafe. Anne pointed to the open office door she was standing next to and frostily explained she’d been getting more paper cups from their supplies. Olivia pressed her face into the back of Rafe’s vest. Maybe if she stayed there until Anne left, she could pretend this never happened.
Between them, her chest started vibrating. Saved by the bell. She fished out her phone. The Dancelight office number displayed on the screen. She could call back in a minute…or she could get the heck out of the most awkward encounter with her mother-in-law in almost two years.
She tapped on Rafe’s back and he turned around, glancing at her phone as he did. “I gotta take this, sorry. See you around?” And with that far-too-glib-for-what-they-just-did blow off, she skedaddled back out the side door Rafe had dragged her in just a few minutes earlier.
— —
The call had been from Johnny and she’d answered his question before she even got to her car. She could have turned around and waited to say goodbye to Rafe, but something told her to go home. A gut feeling that they should do this in baby steps, and walk away while an interaction could be called a success.
Not that being caught by Anne hadn’t put a damper on what they did. But her heart was still thumping hard—in a good way—at how Rafe had kissed her.
The barn doors were wide open. They were definitely doing that again.
Dean gave her a knowing wave as she navigated her way past the crowds and out of the parking lot.
She drove home humming the entire way, and once inside her warm, cozy little home, she poured herself a glass of wine and opened her laptop. It was time to buy some new lingerie. Something told her she’d need something sooner than later. Definitely by Christmas.
Her curves were a little too generous for Victoria’s Secret, but Deena had clued her in to British lingerie shops and their amazing online stores. Even with international shipping, the prices were reasonable. And the silk and satin? Totally sexy.
And with her new income, and her credit card almost paid off…it was time to indulge her secret love of lace and ribbon.
When the knock came on her door two hours later, she wasn’t surprised, but part of her wanted to text him and tell him to go away. That she had a date with a fantasy Rafe in her dreams and tonight had been perfect, so they shouldn’t mess it up with talking that would inevitably lead to fighting.
But on the other side of the door lay a good probability of another smoking hot kiss.
She may have been a little breathless when she wrenched open the door. She covered it up with a bright smile. “Is this about me ducking out?”
Rafe cocked one eyebrow and moved right into her personal space. He closed the door behind him and cupped her face in his hands, pressing a hard, hot kiss against her mouth. “This is about us having a lot of unfinished business.”
Heat unfurled in her belly and she pressed her lips together as he took off his leather jacket. He’d changed out of his uniform and now wore a black thermal henley over dark green cargo pants. He looked every bit the bad-ass soldier and cop she knew he was—but that just underlined some of that unfinished business between them, and not the good kissing kind. He sat on the bench and unlaced his boots, then held out his hand. She let him lead her to the couch, where he moved her laptop out of the way and took a seat at one end. She sat at the other.
“Did I interrupt you working?”
She shook her head and let a small smile play on her lips.
He raised his eyebrows. “What? You look like the cat that got the canary.”
“I was doing some online shopping.” Why are you telling him this? Clothes must stay on! “For lingerie.”
Laughter was not the response she’d been hoping for. “Baby, really?”
She crossed her arms. “They haven’t shipped yet, so there’s still time for me to cancel.”
“No, don’t do that.” He sobered up and gave her a hard stare. “You’re teasing me. Yesterday you weren’t speaking to me, today you’re, you’re…” He trailed off and let his sentiment be known with a bite of his lower lip and a slow up and down sweep of her body. Which was clad in yoga pant
s and a hoodie, quite the opposite of sexy silk, but it probably wouldn’t matter.
She lifted her hands in the air. “I know. But today I’m not leaving town. I’ve got two jobs to the middle of the summer, and I don’t know…maybe I won’t leave at all.”
He stared at her. “Why?”
“Does it matter?” She didn’t really know the answer to that question yet. It just didn’t feel right, leaving. She’d been running away from something she didn’t need to fear. No matter what, she could stand on her own two feet in Pine Harbour.
He nodded slowly. “I think it does. I think if we’re going to do this, we have to start differently. As equals, no obligation.”
She looked at his hand resting on top of the cushions at the back of the couch. Tan skin, a light dusting of dark hair at the wrist, neatly trimmed nails at the end of big, blunt fingers. He was a giant of a man, and when she’d met him she knew he would be a good husband and lover. He had been. A good father and provider. He would have been. Hurt stabbed through her chest. Not her own…his. She might have come to Pine Harbour because he had the career and she didn’t, but her obligation to him faded pretty damn quickly after that. And she started demanding more and more of him. More attention. More understanding. More and more until he couldn’t give it.
She knew now that she should have sought the stimulation she needed in something else. A hobby, although that sounded weak. Should have looked harder for a more interesting job. Been more serious about taking up running or having children. Rafe had wanted kids. She’d wanted to wait, but now that she was nearing thirty, starting a family sounded way less frightening than it had in her early twenties. But maybe that wasn’t on the table. Not the way Rafe was talking about no obligations and doing things differently.
“That doesn’t sound like a second attempt at marriage,” she said softly.
He shook his head. “I don’t know if we were meant to be married, Liv.”
Now the hurt was one hundred percent hers. Oh. Heat flooded her cheeks, crawling down her neck and across her chest. “I thought we’d agreed there was too much history between us for something casual.”
He shifted forward enough to grab her hand and pull her toward him. Not hard against his body, just close enough for their knees to bump and his hand to reach her face. “There is.” He sighed, a deep, heavy release that left a lingering crease between his brows. “But we need to build a better foundation this time. And who knows if that’ll happen? But I want to give it a shot.”
The truth of what he was saying stole her breath away. She felt the trembling start in her middle and travel across her entire body.
“Hey, hey,” he murmured, stroking her knuckles with his thumb. “Was that too blunt? I want it to happen. I want nothing more than to find a way back to you. Permanently.”
She offered a shaky smile. “It’s not very romantic, though, is it?”
He gave her a hard look. “Is that what you want? Romance?”
She turned the question over in her head. “I don’t know. I liked…” Realization dawned on her. “Oh. You aren’t sure how I felt about your notes.”
Now it was his turn to blush, just slightly, his tan cheeks turning the barest shade of red. “I figured you saw it as an opening, but the way you were acting tonight…”
“Like a hussy?”
“Hey, I like hussies.” He laughed at the mock offence she took. “One in particular, who has this bizarre clothes-on policy that makes things…challenging.”
“A good challenge?” Her breath hitched.
He nodded and tugged her closer still, not stopping until she was splayed out on his chest. “A smart, delicious, frustrating challenge.” He nipped at her ear. “One that I’m totally up for, by the way.”
“It’s just for a little while,” she whispered, nuzzling her face into his neck.
“Until the lingerie order gets here?” His hands were everywhere—squeezing her bottom, stroking her back, tangling in her hair. Her elastic band went pinging off the wall behind them and Rafe slid down the couch a bit, settling her more squarely on his lap. She rocked gently back and forth, cradling his growing erection in her soft heat. “Please tell me you ordered express shipping.”
She shook her head, her hair hanging down around them both like an intimate curtain. “Sorry,” she whispered. “They’re coming on the slow boat from England.”
“Damn,” he groaned. “I’m going to have to torture you, then. Make you as crazy for me as I am for you.”
“You’re crazy for—“ He cut her off with a punishing kiss, like how dare she not know that, and then they were done talking.
FIFTEEN
NINE days later, Olivia came home and found a brown package with UK postage propped against her front door. She might have a masochistic side, she decided, because after trying everything on, she tucked the box away in her dresser. Not yet. And not because they weren’t having a great time. They were having an amazing time. Rafe had worked four day shifts in the middle of the week, and then three in a row starting on Sunday, but on his way home every night he’d stopped at her place for a few hours. They ate dinner and talked and kissed.
They kissed a lot. Slow and fast, hungry and sweet. As soon as he arrived, in between sharing the events of their days and gossip about people they knew, and for a long time before he regretfully left each night.
He didn’t need to leave. She’d thought about suggesting he stay—they’d slept together with clothes on for the better part of four years. They could do it now and not have sex. But she was afraid he’d say no. Rafe seemed to enjoy this early relationship renaissance. For reasons she knew were illogical and unfair, that pissed her off.
She wanted him to want more.
She wanted more.
So when he showed up Tuesday night, dead on his feet at the end of his run of shifts, she was prepared to tell him to go home. It wasn’t what she wanted, but she didn’t know how to show him her heart without risking too much. Without knowing that all his professions of intent would be followed by real, lasting action. But then he wrapped himself around her, sagging hard against her like her embrace was exactly what he’d needed at the end of his day, and none of it mattered.
“Hungry?” she whispered.
He shook his head. “Tired. Can I snooze on your couch while you watch TV? Is that awful?”
It sounded almost perfect. “I have a better idea.” She led him to her bed and reached for his belt. “Underwear counts as clothes for tonight.”
“I couldn’t get it up if I tried, baby. Which is a damn shame.” He laughed, a bone-weary sound that cracked her heart. They snuggled under the blankets, Rafe’s hand cupping her breast through her t-shirt, his lips pressed to the back of her neck. He started snoring, a light, reassuring sound she’d missed with all of her being, and as she watched streaming TV on her iPad, his erection slowly rose behind her. Soon, she promised in her head.
— —
Rafe woke up ready to convince Liv they should take their relationship to the next level. He’d spent all night wrapped around her body, and had taken her six ways from Sunday already in his dreams. But when warm sun hit his face and he reached for his wife, he found a note on her pillow instead. Gone to work at the diner. Come find me there for coffee. Beside her note was her discarded t-shirt, and like a lovesick teen he buried his face in it and fisted his ready and willing cock. Not this morning, buddy. But soon, really soon. He dragged himself into the shower, emerging five minutes later smelling like a fucking meadow, a fact that Liv found hysterical when he showed up for his promised caffeine hit.
“You smell pretty,” she whispered as she sashayed past him. He was going to miss that little apron when she stopped working there. He wanted to fold her over his lap and spank her soundly for being cheeky. “And you look…frustrated,” she added after she filled his cup. She set the carafe to the side and leaned across the counter, kissing him lightly on the cheek.
He shot his hand out and cup
ped the back of her neck, holding her in place. “That’s not a good morning kiss,” he muttered, trying to keep a smile at bay.
She arched one eyebrow and took a deep breath, her pupils dilating. “Oh no?”
He shook his head and pulled them back together, ignoring the dozen or so other people in the place. They could all go to hell. There was only one way he wanted his wife to kiss him in the morning—long, hard and dirty. He licked across the flesh of her lower lip, and then inside her mouth as she sucked in a breath, parting her pretty little lips. Far too quickly for his own liking he pulled back, enjoying the slightly glazed look on her face. “I’ll take the special.”
She stared at him for a minute, her cheeks pink and her lips swollen, then gave him a mock-scowl and scribbled his order on her pad. “You think you’re something else, don’t you, Rafe Minelli.”
“That I do, Olivia Minelli.” He lowered his voice and leaned forward. “Thank you for last night.”
Her eyes softened and she shook her head. “You work too hard.”
“I know.” He really did. He couldn’t see a way around that, but it was on his mind. She deserved more of his time.
“You off today?”
“I parade tonight with the regiment, but that’s it until the weekend.” He didn’t want to assume too much, but just in case she didn’t want to ask… “I’m free for whatever. Morning, noon or…night.” He grinned on the last point and she flicked him with her tea towel.
“Will you be late tonight?”
“Probably.”
He could see the battle in her eyes. Kindness won out, and he silently pledged to get himself out of the armouries as soon as humanly possible. “You still got your key?”
“You didn’t change the locks?”
She gave him a grumpy side-eye for that question. “Seriously? Because you’re so scary or something?”