Fumbling with the towel, he finally managed to knot it at his waist and sighed. The heat from the water rinsed the chill from his bones, but it hadn’t done a damn thing to wash away his desire for Lacey.
Hell, all he had to do was see her and his cock turned to instant wood. Rafe ran a comb through his wet hair, quickly shaved and brushed his teeth. His reflection looked grim. The determined glitter in his dark blue eyes said he was done waiting. He drew a deep breath and slowly released it. This was it. No changing his mind. No turning back. Lacey and he were at a crossroads. He knew very well where he intended it to end.
Lacey belonged to him. Now he had to convince her the truth of it.
He’d slipped past her defenses without her realizing it. It left her vulnerable. Danger’s actions made her susceptible. The naked helplessness he saw glinting in the depths of her gold eyes when she fell on top of him in the barn, when their gazes locked, the way her lovely mouth trembled when he felt every inch of her body locked to his, and she felt every hard inch of his, told him she was on the brink of surrender.
He could have taken her there in the barn, crumbled what defenses she had left to dust, but he’d known she wasn’t quite ready to accept him. She needed time to allow him into her heart, her mind, to cast aside her reservations and acknowledge the truth and the inevitable. Her marriage to Danger was over.
There was something powerful between him and Lacey. She had to understand it and agree her life was headed in a brand new direction. When she’d been lying on top of him, he hadn’t taken the kisses he wanted, or torn off her jeans as he’d yearned to do. Instead, he’d arched his hips, a subtle movement that put him right there against the notch of her sweet mound. He’d done it slowly, casually, without a hint he’d done it purposely.
But she knew what he’d done.
Before she scrambled away from him, she’d responded to touches, to his hardness, had uncontrollably rubbed her lower body against his hard cock like a kitten in heat. She made the sexiest little mewling sounds in the back of her throat.
And that’s why she ran.
She responded that little bit, rode his shaft for those infinite seconds, and she’d liked it. But worse, so much worse in her mind was the fact she’d had an orgasm and with little encouragement on his part. No woman climaxed that quickly and with so little provocation unless she was starved for sex.
Well, she could run, but she couldn’t hide.
There was no way in hell he was giving up the upper hand he’d worked so hard and surreptitiously to gain.
She belonged to him, in ways she didn’t know, in ways she no longer belonged to Danger—and never would again. He didn’t understand why the man had left her in a weak position, utterly handing her over to him with his blessing like he no longer loved her.
By God, he wasn’t questioning his good luck or Danger’s idiocy any more.
Rafe gargled and spat out the spearmint-flavored mouth rinse. Six months earlier he’d set out on a campaign. He’d done things to Lacey he should never have done, but the opportunities had been there, and he’d grabbed them with both hands each and every time. He’d started a crusade to wear down her defenses. He was so close now to bringing it to culmination, he wasn’t about to back off.
Rafe had taken his time seducing Lacey. Winning her was too important to rush. Long hours on stakeouts taught him patience. Taking his time was something he did well, but the sample he’d had of Lacey in the barn whetted his appetite.
His patience dangled by a thread. Months of foreplay had destroyed his nerves and left them strung as tight as barbed wire. His body ached, but he’d known his use of touch had always been his key to winning Lacey.
He used it ruthlessly. Every chance he got, he tucked a stray curl behind her ear, plucked an eyelash off her cheek, rubbed a smudge of dirt off her chin. A non-threatening caress of her shoulder, a brush of his thumb across her wrist—he used everything he could think of to his advantage. Touch. It was always about touch, and the ultimate recipe for her seduction.
Shamelessly, he’d listened for Danger to leave that morning to go collect the prisoner in Havre. The sheriff hit the road around four-thirty, long before daylight. Rafe made a point of rising right after Danger left.
Instead of Lacey’s husband sharing breakfast with her, he had. He was still stunned over the fact that Danger had taken off and left them alone. They had the house to themselves, and he knew well that the Rimrock sheriff had no intention of coming home any time soon. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Rafe wondered if Danger planned to ever return, period.
He’d seen something in his stark gray eyes the night before when the lawman said he might have to get a room. Rafe had sensed the sheriff had other plans, and he’d had them for quite awhile.
Danger’s early departure set the final phase of Rafe’s plans in motion. He didn’t hesitate to start the day off spending every available minute with Lacey. “Morning, Lace.”
She turned with a cup of coffee in her hands, a faint smile on her face that slowly faded when she took in his drowsy appearance. He’d purposely left his shirt unbuttoned. His hair was tousled with that just-got-out-of-bed look, his eyes heavy-lidded. Deliberately, he’d left the top button of his jeans unfastened. They rode low on his hips.
He saw her gaze trace the arrow of dark hair that worked its way into the waistband of his jeans.
“Morning.” She turned her back on him, but he knew she hadn’t missed a single detail about his appearance. “You want coffee?”
Even after clearing her throat, her voice still sounded husky. Sexy. Nervous.
He reached above her head for a coffee cup, nudging her rear with hard thighs. “Oops, sorry. Yeah, I’d kill for a cup of your coffee. So, Danger took off for Havre?” He filled his cup, took a sip, and headed to the table, never letting on he’d bumped her deliberately.
“Mmm,” she replied around a swallow of coffee. “He just left.” She busied herself with making breakfast for them. All the little things throughout the day slowly awakened her to his masculinity.
Yet he’d spread his attack on her senses far enough apart over the six-month campaign, and except for the incident in front of the fireplace the night before, nothing could possibly have struck her as out of kilter, until it was too late and it all came together, maybe added up in the barn when she lay sprawled on top of him.
Even then, he didn’t think she realized he’d made her body so acutely sensitive to his, that he’d patiently taught her to accept his innocent caresses, but in doing so, he’d created a raging fire in his balls.
Rafe heard her now, hurrying down the hall. She probably thought she’d make it to her bedroom before she had to face him again. Maybe hide out in there for the rest of the night. It wasn’t going to work. He had no intention of allowing her to escape so easily.
Stepping out of the guest bathroom at the end of the hall, he halted, as though surprised to see her there. “Oh, Lace, I’m sorry, I thought you were in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the turkey.”
She froze. Her gaze raked over him, first meeting his eyes, then shying away, only to settle briefly on his mouth as if she was remembering the taste of his kisses in the barn. She licked her lips. Her gaze flickered across the width of his chest, then landed on the towel knotted at his waist. She didn’t go past the knot, but swallowed hard and lifted her head to meet his steady gaze. “No, I uh—” she cleared her throat, “yes, I–I mean yes, I’m finished. Everything’s on the table, but uh, Danger called, and he uh, definitely isn’t…he isn’t coming home. He’s, uh, icy roads, and he–he…got a room. I…made a salad and was…just—” She exhaled a long breath. “An–and Anna Leigh isn’t bringing Joseph. Their drive is solid ice. Sh–she can’t make it up their drive.”
Rafe hid a smile. Nervous. She was so damn nervous. He saw the uncertainty in her eyes, the certain knowledge it was just him and her, alone for hours—man and woman, both ravenously hungry for sex. How else could it e
nd except with him buried inside her?
Unfortunately, he was about to make her even more edgy. He folded his arms across his chest. “That so?”
He deliberately glanced at his crotch, drawing her gaze with his. Rafe quickly looked up and acted as embarrassed as she over the fact the front of the towel stood out with an obvious tent. “Yeah, I’ll…just hurry to my room and get dressed. I’ll meet you in the kitchen in a few minutes.” He hadn’t left her a choice about returning to the kitchen to join him.
She flattened herself against the wall as he started past her, but still, he was in her space, up close and personal, and he knew, even though he didn’t touch her, she was aware of his bare chest and the hard-on he sported.
Slipping inside his room, he pushed the door closed, but made certain it didn’t catch. While he pretended to rummage through his bag for clothes, he dropped the towel, turned, and acted as if he wasn’t aware she still hugged the wall in the hallway with full view to his room.
He flashed a full frontal at her. He was in high form, so fucking hard he was about ready to drop to his knees and beg her to sleep with him. Not daring to look up, he slowly pushed the door shut in an absent-minded way, as if he was distracted, and had no clue she stood there gaping open-mouthed at his dick.
But he heard her sharp intake of air, listened to her hurried footsteps turn toward the kitchen. He’d given her an eyeful and something to think about. Rafe smiled and glanced at his throbbing cock. Without being conceited, he knew he was hung. Even when soft, his dick hung heavy over his balls, thick and broad at the tip.
Sometimes women flat-out refused him sex because of his generous size. There were some females who couldn’t take what God blessed him with.
Rafe finished dressing, at least as much as he planned to dress, and went in search of Lacey. He found her in the kitchen. He smiled. He could honestly say Lacey was one of the few women he’d ever known whose heart was in her kitchen.
She’d set the table for the two of them.
A richly browned turkey rested on a decorative platter. The delicious aroma of spicy dressing teased his nostrils. Although he didn’t think it was deliberate on her part, Lacey had made the dressing the way he liked it, with lots of fragrant sage. A bowl of mashed potatoes, brown gravy, and a Frito salad rounded off the meal. Two pies set to one side, a pumpkin and a pecan.
And Jesus, she’d baked two cakes, too, an orange slice and a Mississippi Mud.
It all looked wonderful and smelled heavenly, but who the hell did she think was going to eat all this food? None of the holiday dinner appealed to him the way she did. His gut clenched. He rubbed an unsteady hand over his heart, a heart that ached with love for her. There was no way he could sit down at the table and pretend nothing had happened between them. He couldn’t go back to being just a friend.
Rafe sighed. This was it. Tonight. Now.
He should have stayed in his room, or in the barn, and let her escape.
He should never have gone looking for her, but he had—
Chapter Eight
Yes…It became clear that the marriage had irretrievably broken down.
~Prince Charles
Two Months Earlier
December 25, Thursday
6:45 p.m.
Lacey tensed when she heard Rafe’s footsteps fall on the kitchen tile behind her. Aware he’d come in search of her, she didn’t acknowledge his presence but remained where she was, standing at the kitchen sink.
She sipped hot chocolate and stared out the window. There wasn’t much to see through the rivulets of condensation dribbling down the pane, except a watery blur of her own reflection, but still she kept her back to him and stared into the dark, frozen night. Tears trickled down her face. For a moment, she wondered if she looked as sad as the windowpane. Oh, God, she was in so much trouble.
How had she reached this critical level in her life?
When had it happened?
She was married to a good man. Wasn’t she? Good, yes, but that didn’t mean he loved her. Things had changed slowly between them, so slowly, she hadn’t realized their love was dying.
What happened to the love she and Danger once shared? She didn’t know. The one thing she did know was Danger had pulled away from her months ago. He’d left her vulnerable to another man, a man who’d shared more of her life in the last six months than her husband had in over a year.
Her heart thundered. Her pulse pounded. Between her thighs a wild hunger pulsed. Moisture pooled. Her fingers curled around the cup. It took all her will to keep from turning around, leaping on Rafe, tugging his zipper down, freeing his cock and riding it until she lay limp with exhaustion. She hadn’t felt this out of control in such a long time.
She wondered if this day was ever going to end. The hours crawled by. Christmas day had lasted forever. The aroma of roast turkey permeated the kitchen. Holiday scents. Holiday foods. Family time. No family to share the wonders of the season with—and a husband who preferred the cold, clinical atmosphere of a stuffy motel room to spending Christmas with her. Her heart exploded with pain. Deep in her soul, she knew Danger never planned to come home tonight. So that meant he’d deliberately left her alone with a man who wanted to have sex with her.
Her husband had purposely left her needy for months. What did he think would happen? Worse, what did he want to happen? More importantly, why had he done this to her? Had Danger chosen Rafe because he thought she was attracted to the Texan or was something else going on in her husband’s mind?
She didn’t fear Rafe. The idea he’d hurt her was totally foreign to her. She didn’t believe that at all. Lacey frowned. She didn’t know the truth of the matter, but her womanly intuition told her Danger knew exactly how Rafe felt, and her husband didn’t care enough about her to give a shit if she slept with his friend or not, and that broke her heart into tiny pieces.
Inside, her stomach clenched. Somewhere, she’d done something terribly wrong and lost her husband’s love and respect. Oh, God. Yes. She’d done something terribly wrong that very afternoon. She’d let Rafe kiss her. Touch her intimately. She still felt his hands on her ass, his mouth on her breasts. Still felt the way her nipples tightened when he suckled them. To her everlasting shame, she wanted to feel it all again.
Deep inside, her heart quivered like a mass of jelly. She was starved for the feel of a man’s arms around her, a man’s body thrusting inside her. It had been months since Danger even bothered to kiss her, let alone make love to her.
She straightened her shoulders. One thing her husband had made absolutely clear, he didn’t want or love her anymore. Acceptance of what she couldn’t change settled on her shoulders. Damn it, she was no different than any other human. She needed love, needed to be loved. She needed to touch and be touched. Tears spilled down her face. She needed the words softly spoken between lovers, the whispers in the night, the touches, the sighs. She needed—to feel Rafe inside her.
“It’s still snowing.” Quickly, Lacey swiped away the evidence of her crying. Damned if she was shedding anymore tears over Danger. He’d literally thrown her away. “I can see the flakes falling underneath the light out by the barn.”
“I know.”
* * * *
Lacey’s shoulders tensed. Her back stiffened. Rafe knew she saw his reflection in the window. He remained in the doorway between the living room and kitchen, hesitant to approach her. He’d heard the tears in her voice. His heart squeezed. He didn’t think he could bear to see her cry. He should back away.
Rafe ordered himself to turn around, pack his bags, and no matter the weather, get the hell outta here. But he couldn’t take the first step away from her. Instead, he moved closer. Halfway across the kitchen, he hesitated. He stood there shirtless, barefoot, his jeans riding low on his hips, and he waited for her to make up her mind if she wanted him.
The hunger lashed at him, a tight knot in his belly that clenched and unclenched in raw spasms. He watched her for the longest time, so hungr
y for a taste of her he started to shake. Hell, he wasn’t seducing her. She’d seduced him a long time ago.
He’d never been nervous when it came to sex. This time was different. This woman meant everything to him. When he touched her, he wanted it to feel perfect to her. Rafe held out a hand and watched it shake. Jesus. He was scared. Scared of saying the wrong thing, terrified he wouldn’t please her or he’d frighten her away.
He dropped his arm to his side. Seeing how pale her reflection looked in the window, he thought he might die of a broken heart if she rejected him. Rafe had never been the type of man who tiptoed around on eggshells, afraid they’d smash to smithereens if he stepped on them too hard. With Lacey, he was already shattered inside, a hopeless wreck of twisted nerves. The fear of losing her felt like his soul had been cut through with a sharp knife.
He tried to gain control of his roiling emotions. If he didn’t slow down, it would all be over before it started. Rafe studied the way her jeans tightened when she stretched to put something in the cabinet. Busy. She kept herself busy avoiding the truth. Avoiding him. Denying what Danger had done to both of them.
His burning gaze studied her heart-shaped ass, the ass he’d cupped in his hands a few hours ago. No wonder he stayed hard when he was around her. She had the most delicious rear he’d ever seen in a pair of tight-fitting jeans.
Every time he was a guest in Lacey and Danger’s home, he stayed semi-erect and restless as a jungle cat in search of a mate. Worse, he knew Lacey had thought of him as a friend, up until last night, up until the moment he’d let her know she aroused him, up until he’d kissed her and touched her in the barn—
He’d rubbed the illusion from her head. Until then, she hadn’t fully comprehended the depth of his feelings for her or how vulnerable she was to him. Rafe frowned. Hell, he was still trying to understand why Danger left his wife to him to do whatever he willed. If he was having trouble wrapping his mind around it, he could only imagine the hurt and confusion going on inside her.
Too Close To The Fire/Too Hot To Handle (Montana Men 3) Page 19