Page 53 of Not Safe for Work

“Better than that battery-operated friend of yours,” he says, his voice rough.

We’re into the weeds with flashlights and fishing nets now. “Gosh, you think a lot of yourself,” I quip, and I feel the exhale of his dark laugh against the nape of my neck. His hands drop lower, working the tender flesh at the bottom of my spine, fingers digging into my hips to give him leverage. It. Feels. Amazing.

His thumbs trend downward, and as he touches the top swell of my butt, my entire body tightens.

“How’s your head feeling?” he asks.

My head. Right. That’s what started this.

I shift to relieve the stiffness in my legs, and my butt brushes between his thighs. The touch is so brief that I can’t be certain, but I’m pretty sure he’s enjoying this, too. Knowing this might be turning him on sends a shower of heat rushing to my stomach.

“A lot better,” I breathe, trying to regulate my voice. “Thank you.” A yawn stretches from my throat. “These pills always make me so tired.”

I’m not sure who makes the decision. If it’s Rafe, or if it’s me, or some divine benevolent hand controlling the universe, but a few moments later, I’m lying against him. My cheek is pressed to his chest, and his hand rests on my thigh while the other continues working circles at the base of my skull.

My hand lies against his heart, and I fight the urge to explore the planes of his torso, settling on rubbing the material of his shirt between my thumb and forefinger. I’m lying on a hard floor in a drafty ballroom, but this might be the most comfortable I’ve been in my entire life.

I inhale deeply, taking in gulps of his fresh, clean scent layered with something smokier and richer, like moonlight and campfires.

“You smell so good.” The words fall from my mouth on a slipstream of drowsiness as I feel Rafe’s chin drop to the top of my head.

I don’t know what this is. I don’t know what to name this.

So, I try not to analyze it too closely.

His arm pulls me in tighter, and the last thing I remember is the scruff on his neck gently scratching my forehead before I drift off to sleep.

Chapter Fourteen

When I wake up, I am both comfortable and uncomfortable. My hip is sore, and my entire right leg is tingling from a lack of blood flow. The rest of me, though, is pressed up against a wall of male muscle that smells like sunshine. My face is buried into a crook of warm skin with strong arms wrapped around me and a large hand pressing to the small of my back.

My thoughts take a moment to catch up.

Thighs touching, hips adjacent, breasts crushed.

Mentally, I leap back a thousand feet.

Physically, I stay absolutely still, peering up at Rafe through my eyelashes to behold the gloriousness of sleep-tousled hair and the face of the devil cloaked in the costume of a sleeping angel.

“The storm passed,” Gabrielle says from somewhere above us. My gaze flicks up to find her folding a blanket. “Everyone can return to their rooms.” She then gathers an armful of pillows and hoists them against her chest. “They want us to put all the blankets and stuff in the bins outside. And they canceled sessions today so we can get some rest.”

Still keeping entirely motionless, I blink in acknowledgment. Her lips press together like she’s trying to contain a smile before turning and heading for the exit.

My focus returns to Rafe, his head resting on the pillow we shared last night. A moment later, his eyes slowly open. They connect with mine. A static charge sizzles in the space between our pupils as we fossilize into stone. It takes approximately one entire century before I finally come to my senses and my body catches up with my brain.

Here in the cold light of day, with the storm passed and all of us safe, the words we exchanged, the touches we shared in the dark take on a different shade.

My cheeks flush as I realize I was practically throwing myself at him. This is mortifying. Did I seriously tell him I make a lot of noise during sex?

“Get off me,” I snap, drowning in the shallows of shame.

That releases the tension.

Rafe’s arms spring open, ejecting me into outer space, before he sits up with a glare.

“You get off me. You’re the one who fell asleep on top of me.”

“I did not!”