“Hmm. Doesn’t have the same appeal.”
“Rafe,” she warned. She tried to ease out of his embrace, but found her efforts thwarted by his brute strength. “All right, you’ve proven your point. You’re stronger than me. You can let me go now.”
“Maybe I’m not done proving my point, ángel,” he drawled. The sensuous sound of his voice tugged at her heartstrings.
He lowered his head in one swift motion and took her mouth, startling and arousing her at the same time. He cradled the back of her head in his palm, and her anger dissipated like morning fog in the first rays of sunlight. Her fingers curled into his powerful arms as he bent her over his arm. Teasing teeth tugged the sensitive flesh of her lower lip until she could no longer bear it and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck to urge a fuller exploration.
His expert tongue delved between her lips, stroking the sensitive cavern of her mouth to elicit a moan of burgeoning desire from the back of her throat. The taste of him was intoxicating, flooding her taste buds with a flavor that far surpassed the memories she’d tucked away in the deep recesses of her mind.
When Rafael slipped his hand over the curve of her breast and shaped the soft flesh, a shudder coursed through her. In the back of her mind, she knew she should be stronger than this, but she’d always been weak for him. Nothing had changed.
“Let me suck your nipples,” he murmured.
Not waiting for a response, he lowered the straps of her dress and pushed her plump, swollen breasts to sit over the top of the bodice. On a groan, he lowered his head and pulled one dark nipple into his mouth. She gasped, the sharp jolt of pleasure that rushed through her echoing between her legs. He shifted from one breast to the other, focused, licked, stroked with his thumb until her shallow breathing filled the air between them.
She should stop him, but she couldn’t. She arched her body, anxious to get more. The escalating ache almost unbearable, her fingers trailed through the dark, silky hairs on his head.
Weakened from the sensual maneuvers of his mouth, Rebekah let her head loll back.
The tip of his tongue traced the column of her throat and left a trail of moist heat in its wake. When he reclaimed her lips, she could do nothing but kiss him back and take the pleasure he offered. He kissed her long, hard, and thoroughly, holding her tight, crushing her bare breasts against his chest. Her sensitive nipples rubbed against his white polo shirt while his large hands smoothed down her back and molded the curves of her hips and buttocks, heightening the sexual demands of her body.
When he lifted his mouth from hers, her quickened breath skated across her tingling lips as he watched her from his superior height. In the intimacy of the moment, she felt bare and vulnerable.
His blazing gaze locked with hers. “From now on, those nipples belong to me, and I’m the only one who gets to suck them.” She trembled, aching from the raw sexuality of his words. “Anything you need,” he reiterated, his accent thicker now, his sculpted lips just inches away, his voice raspy from the same hunger that coursed through her veins, “you come to me. Anything.”
She didn’t miss the innuendo, nor did she miss the excited leap of her heart. His touch and his words made her wish for, want, need what she’d lived without for years. Him. All of him.
It scared her. He had been her world. She had abandoned her family for him.
She pushed away from him and he released her. She staggered back and braced her hand against the counter. Her body ached to be filled in the same way he had filled her mouth.
After righting her dress, she met his gaze when she could speak. “This doesn’t mean anything,” she said past swollen, quivering lips.
“You can deny it, but there’s still something between us.” The husky velvet tones of his voice moistened her already damp panties even more.
“There was always something between us, but it wasn’t enough.” There was no point in denying the message her body conveyed loud and clear. Her swollen nipples were still achy and clamored to get back into his mouth. “We can’t go back, and sleeping with each other is not the answer.”
“It’s not the answer to our past problems, but it might help us get through the coming months during the divorce.”
His suggestion was ridiculous. How could they have sex while trying to iron out a divorce? Sex would muddy the waters and cloud their judgment—hers, at least.
“What you’re suggesting is not a good idea.”
His gaze dipped to the front of her dress, surveying the proof of the passion that still existed between them. His lingering gaze had the same effect as a caress. Her nipples tightened in longing.
“I think you should leave.” The whispered words were a struggle to get out. She needed to regroup.
“You should think about it, mi ángel.” He trailed a finger down her cheek.
Rebekah turned away from his touch. “Go. Please.”
She had to get him out of there. The maelstrom of feelings swirling through her could not be analyzed in her current state.
At first, she thought Rafael wouldn’t leave. He remained standing just within reach, watching her, the heat from their fervent caresses weighing heavy on the air. Then, without another word, he left the kitchen.
She followed him into the foyer.
“Rafe.” He glanced back, his hand on the doorknob. “You know it’s over between us, don’t you? This was just a slip up. There’s no chance of anything happening between us again. Ever.”
His enigmatic expression didn’t change. “Good night, Rebekah."
She stared at the closed door. The reverberations of her heart shook her entire body. She touched a finger to her tingling lips.
Had those words been meant to convince him, or her?
Chapter Eight
Ricardo jumped up from the chair at the kitchen table and dropped his cereal bowl in the sink. He bolted from the kitchen before the doorbell could ring a second time. Rebekah picked up her purse and walked with a more leisurely pace toward the front door.
“Buenos días, mijo,” Rafael said, smiling down at his son.
“Buenos días,” Ricardo returned.
“I’ll see you later,” Rebekah said, reaching down to drop a kiss on her son’s cheek and receive one from him in return.
She was on her way to the attorney’s office, and they were on their way to the barber. Since Ricardo had asked, first thing this morning, to have Rafael take him for a haircut—no doubt prompted by the sight of his father’s closely cropped hair—she had called his father to see if he could take Ricardo to the barber while she went to her appointment and ran other errands.
“Red looks good on you,” Rafael commented. His gaze rested at the V-neckline just above the top button of her silk blouse.
“Every color looks good on Mom.”
“I think you’re right,” Rafael said.
Heat suffused her cheeks. “Thank you, sweetie.”
She saw the amusement in Rafael’s eyes. He was having a good time with her discomfort. She had tossed and turned most of the night, dwelling on his kisses and the strokings of his tongue across her breasts. She had considered taking a cold shower, but at some point, exhaustion had taken over, and she awoke when Ricardo came into her room this morning. At least there were no telltale bags under her eyes.
“I’ll be back by four,” she said to Rafael.
“We’ll be back soon after,” he promised.
The three of them exited the house.
* * * *
The law office of Buchanan, Rothstein, and Hoyt, located in the trendy, commercial district of Midtown, was decorated in muted tones of off-white and gray. Attorney Sterling Buchanan was fifteen minutes late for their meeting. Glancing at her watch, Rebekah hoped he hadn’t forgotten their last minute appointment.
Just as the thought crossed her mind, she heard his deep voice.
“Bekah,” he said, referring to her by the nickname he’d heard her older brother call her. “Sorry I’m late.” He wa
He smiled down at her fondly. Handsome, with light mocha skin, a goatee, and mesmerizing eyes, Sterling was a dream. It was no wonder she’d had a crush on him from the age of twelve until she met Rafael.
“I’ve been better,” Rebekah admitted.
Sterling ushered her into his office and waved her into one of the guest chairs. Once seated behind his large desk, he said, “Tell me what’s going on.”
Rebekah provided a detailed history of her marriage and everything she knew about the botched divorce. When she finished, she posed the question uppermost in her mind. “How long will it take to get the divorce?”
Sterling tapped his forefinger on his desk calendar. “It’s hard to say. An uncontested divorce would take about two months. Your situation is complicated by a couple of factors that could draw out the length of the proceedings.”
“What factors are those?” Rebekah asked with a sinking feeling.
“Ricardo, for one. Whenever there’s a child involved, it complicates matters. Custody and visitation will have to be worked out. Then there’s the issue of assets. Your husband’s a wealthy man.”
She nodded. “Yes, I know, but I don’t want anything from him. Not for me, anyway. I’m sure Rafe will want to provide for Ricky, though.”
Sterling shrugged. “Still, your husband is a California resident and you’re a resident of Georgia. The first order of business is to get him to sign a waiver of jurisdiction so the divorce can be handled here. That shouldn’t be a problem. His attorney will advise him it’s preferable to handling the case in California. He stands to lose a lot more if they do.”
“What’s next?”
“I’ll get in touch with his attorney. By the way, this is on the house.” He smiled.
“No, I can’t ask you to do that. I can pay you.”
“Adam’s practically a brother, so by extension, you’re my sister, too. I know this is a tough situation you’re in.”
Rebekah sighed. “Thanks. I can’t believe something like this could happen.”
“You’d be surprised how often it does.” Rebekah’s eyebrows raised. “It’s true. Courts screw up all the time. Clerks make mistakes, especially when they’re overwhelmed. Judges sometimes don’t sign documents in a timely fashion, which means we have to redo filings we’ve already made. Our paralegals spend a lot of time doing follow up. You should go sit in at Superior Court some time and watch the chaos.” A pained expression came over his face.
“I’ll take your word for it.” Rebekah slung her purse over her shoulder. “Are you sure about doing this at no charge?”
“I’m sure. If the two of you want to end this marriage and can come to an agreement about Ricardo, I don’t see a problem. I just need his attorney’s name to get the ball rolling, and everything will be wrapped up before you know it.”
* * * *
As Rebekah drove her car under the carport, Rafael’s SUV pulled into the driveway. Her son ran up to her when she got out of the car.
“Mom, how do I look?”
It was amazing how much Ricardo looked like his father with the new haircut. When Rafael walked up behind him, the resemblance was astounding. Gray eyes, high cheekbones, and a broad forehead figured prominently in the similarities.
“Very handsome.” Rebekah touched his cheek and he grinned broadly up at her.
“Check this out.” He lifted a handheld video game toward her. “Dad bought it for me. Can I show it to my friends?”
“Neat,” she said, having no clue what she was looking at. “Yes, you can go show your friends your new toy.”
“Cool!” She watched him run across the street in the cul-de-sac and knock on the door. Her neighbor answered and waved at her before letting Ricardo in.
“He has a lot of energy,” Rafael remarked.
“Did you find it hard to keep up?”
Their eyes met and his piercing gaze held hers. “Not at all. I have a lot of energy too.”
Awareness sizzled between them at the deliberate words.
Rebekah cleared her throat. “Well, thank you for taking him to the barber for me.” She turned to go.
At the front door, his deep voice sounded close behind her. “Mind if I come in for a few minutes?”
Rebekah whirled in his direction. She thought she’d left him in the driveway. “I…don’t think—”
“I’ll only come in for a few minutes.”
Last night made her realize she treaded on dangerous ground with Rafael. His proximity made her very aware of the height of his frame, the breadth of his shoulders, and each sinewy piece of bronze muscle she could see.
“Would you prefer to talk out here?” he asked when she didn’t respond.
“No, I—” She could handle him. She had self-control. He no longer had the power to make her forego common sense and act on impulse. After her silent pep talk, she said, “No. Come in.”
Inside, she dropped her purse on the foyer table. “Would you like something to drink?” she asked over her shoulder, making her way toward the kitchen. It was a strain to keep her voice normal.
“No, I’m fine. How did your meeting with the attorney go?”
Rebekah poured herself a glass of water and took several swallows before placing the glass on the table. “It went well. He plans to contact your attorney soon.”
His eyes roamed over her exposed skin in the sleeveless blouse. Goose bumps sprang up and down the length of her arms. “Are you okay? You seem a little tense.”
Yes, she was tense, and it was his fault. “I’m fine.”
A sound from the foyer caught their attention. Ricardo and two of his friends traipsed into the kitchen.
“Wow, it’s true,” one of the boys said, staring up at Rafael in awe.
Rafael took the boy’s hand and shook it. “Nice to meet you,” he said with a smile.
“See, I told you!” Ricardo said. “He’s my dad.” He turned to Rebekah. “Mom, can I sleep next door tonight? We want to play video games.”
Still flustered, it took a moment for Rebekah to answer. She turned to the other two boys. “Is it okay with your mother?”
Both heads bobbed in unison. “Yes, Miss Jamison. My mom sent me over to get your permission.”
“If it’s all right with her, it’s all right with me.”
“Yes!” The three boys ran upstairs, but not before one last backward glance at Rafael by one of Ricardo’s young friends.
“I’ll be right back,” Rebekah said, following the boys. It only took a few minutes for her to make sure Ricardo had everything he needed for his night at the neighbor’s. When he was safely back across the street, she rejoined Rafael in the kitchen.
Alone in the house with Rafael, Rebekah’s pulse hammered a warning, alerting her she was at a disadvantage.
“Was there anything else you wanted to ask me?”
“We were discussing how tense you were.” His voice was dangerously low and inviting.
“And I told you, I’m not tense. I’m fine.”
“Turn around.” The words conjured erotic images of him behind her. Her body moistened at the thought of doing what he asked and lifting her bottom against his hips. “Let me give you a massage.”
“Oh.” The erotic image dissipated. “I’m fine. Really.”
“You used to like my massages.” His voice lowered even more.
Magic hands, she used to call him. Once he’d eased the tension in her shoulders and back, he would ease the aching in her loins with firm, sure strokes.
“Relax,” he said, taking matters into his own hands and turning her around so she faced the table. His long fingers began to move in a soothing motion across the knotted muscles. “You’re really tense, amada.”
The initial touch of his hands sent jolts of electricity darting across her skin. Despite his size and strength, his fingers moved gently across her shoulder blades, kneading the tight tissue with the skill of a professional masseur. Having been an athlete for years, he’d mastered the technique of manipulating the various muscles. He applied the right amount of pressure, and her eyes drifted closed. She had no choice but to let go and soften to his touch.
“That’s better,” he whispered.
The warmth exuding from him caressed her skin, making the back of her neck tingle. The slow ascension of arousal began somewhere deep inside her and climbed at a steady pace through her body.
He abandoned her shoulder to encircle one wrist and brought the back of her hand to his lips. Her eyes flew open.
The other hand slid down the length of the A-line skirt, smoothing over the roundness of her hip. She heard him take a deep breath. “Now I remember.” His voice rumbled close to her ear. “Pomegranate Orchard is the name of the scent you wear.”
“Rafe, I’ve already warned you.” She retrieved her hand with a firm twist. A pulsing awareness thrummed through her, making her breathless and needy, wanting him with every fiber of her being. She turned to face him.
Bracing a hand on either side of her, he trapped her between him and the round table. “I’m not good at following directions.”
“Keep your hands to yourself.”
“You didn’t mind a moment ago.”
“I mean it.” She didn’t sound as harsh as she wanted to.
A crooked, unconcerned smile appeared on his face. “Well, if you don’t want my hands on you,” he said, “maybe my mouth is more to your liking.”
The husky words invited her to bliss. Rafael dipped his head and slid his mouth across hers with little pressure. The gentle exploration gave her the option to pull away if she wanted to do so.
The moment his lips touched hers, she was lost, caught up in a tornado of desire that whisked its way through her. Hunger stirred to full life in her body, making her long for his hands and more intimate contact. Of their own volition, her palms slid across the contours of his broad chest and came to rest on his shoulders.
But he didn’t touch her.
Slipping her arms around his neck, she drew him closer and opened her mouth beneath his to deepen the kiss, entwining her tongue with his.
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