Page 84 of Not Safe for Work

That reminds me of something I’ve still been wondering. “Wait… why did you refuse the extra room they offered?”

Guilt passes over his expression. “Maybe I was starting to like sharing.” His gaze meets mine with an unflinching look. “I thought maybe we were becoming friends?”

Friends.

I stop, looking away for a moment, overcome with a complicated avalanche of emotion I’m not quite sure what to do with. I’ve been handed the hot potato and have nowhere to send it.

“Yeah. I think we are.”

He tightens his grip on me, pulling me closer in a way that doesn’t feel exactly friendly, but I’m not complaining as all my thoughts and feelings collide in a tangle. His hand slides down my hip, and I brush the collar of his vest.

“Why don’t you ever dress like this at the office?” I ask, adjusting the knot on his tie.

He quirks his mouth. “Do you like it?”

“I do,” I say, a bit more breathlessly than I intend. He looks amazing. I want to devour him. I want to dip him in sugar and suck on him like a lollipop. “I said you were an eleven out of ten. Maybe even a twelve.”

He blinks before his face stretches into a grin. “I think you’re a thousand out of ten.”

“Always trying to one-up me, aren’t you, Gallagher?” I joke, and he chuckles.

“In this case, I’m absolutely right.” His hand slides up my arm, and then his finger runs under the strap of my dress. “You never dress like this at the office.” His hands continue moving, smoothing down the bared swath of my back.

I laugh. “This is hardly office appropriate.”

I mean, that was the entire point of this dress. I just never imagined I’d be wearing it with Rafe.

His eyes darken. “You’re right.” He leans down, speaking directly into my ear. “I’d rather it was balled up on the floor with my face between your thighs.”

My breath turns to mud, and my pulse thunders in my ears.

We’ve stopped dancing. We’re standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by strangers. The lights have dimmed, forming a private circle no one can enter. His hand slips to my lower back as Rafe pins my hips against his, where I feel the rock-hard evidence of his arousal.

“This is what you do to me,” he says softly. “Ever since we got to Maui, I’ve been barely able to concentrate. All I can think about is how much I want to kiss you, taste you, fuck you. I’ve jerked off in the shower so many times, my palms are raw.”

Heat floods between my thighs. This is so hot. Rafe is a dirty talker, and if that fairy godmother arrived to grant my third wish, this is exactly what I would have asked for.

I let out a sound of mock indignation. “That is my shower.”

His laugh is low as he presses me closer. His hand drifts lower, sliding through the opening in my skirt, coming to rest in the crease of the back of my thigh. “If I slid my hand into your panties, would you be wet for me, Trishara?”

“Yes,” I whisper as I cling to the collar of his vest.

There’s no use denying it. After everything he’s just said, no part of me wants to.

“I want you. I want you so much,” he says.

His breath is ragged, his cheeks flushed. I look into his face. His perfect, beautiful face.

I pause for a moment, suspended in this space, ready to plunge headfirst into this thing that’s been forming since that day I crashed into him five years ago.

“I want you too,” I finally answer.

His exhale feels like a sigh of relief, spilling out everything we’ve kept held so tightly to our chests.

His hand wraps around the back of my neck, and he lowers his face. My lips part in anticipation of another earth-shattering kiss.

“Who are you?” A voice jolts us both. A woman in a wedding dress stands with her fists on her hips, her shoulders curved with aggression. “I don’t know either of you. What are you doing here?”