Page 85 of Not Safe for Work

Shit. We’re busted. Rafe is now holding my hand, and he squeezes it. We’re in this together.

“Stacy!” I say. “Don’t you recognize me?”

“My name is Melissa.” Um. Oops.

“Melissa. Right. I guess we’re at the wrong wedding?” I look at Rafe, adopting a confused expression. His lips press together as he tries to hold in a laugh.

“Security!” Melissa yells at the top of her lungs. The band stops playing, and every eye is turning our way. “Security!”

“We should probably run,” Rafe says. “Our island of pineapples awaits.”

He tugs my hand, and I grab my skirt as we spring out of the ballroom. Melissa chases after us, screeching at the top of her lungs.

“She’s going to kill us,” I say.

“We had a good life,” Rafe replies as he jabs the elevator button. We watch the numbers for a few seconds, but they don’t move.

“Come back here!” Melissa shouts, shaking a fist. “What are your names?”

“This way,” Rafe says, pulling on my hand, and we launch into the stairwell. I’m laughing so hard I can barely stand.

“My shoes,” I cry. “I can’t run in these shoes.”

Rafe picks me up and hauls me over his shoulder as he pounds up several flights. When it’s clear that arresting wedding crashers isn’t on the priority list for hotel security, he stops and puts me down. My sides ache from laughing, and I lean against the wall, gasping for breath.

“That was amazing,” I say, wiping the tears from my eyes.

“You called her Stacy,” Rafe says, howling.

It lights up his face, and he’s truly never been more beautiful. I can’t stop staring. I can’t believe he kept this from me for so long.

He stops when he notices, and our gazes lock.

There’s a pause, and the entire world comes to a screeching halt. The wind and the stars and the ocean and our breath and our hearts all cease and just… stop.

Rafe is on top of me in an instant. His hands cup my face, and his mouth presses to mine, and this feels like magic. With my back pressed to the wall, his tongue licks the seam of my mouth. I open for him as we meet in a slick slide of needy, hungry kisses.

His hands roam down my arms and my sides and my hips, where he grips them with a fierce kind of possession. We kiss and we kiss while our panting breaths fill the quiet stairwell.

A door slams below, pulling us apart. We probably should find somewhere better to do this. Because sentences have become too hard, I loop my arms around Rafe’s neck and say, “Upstairs. Now.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Rafe scoops me into his arms and wrenches open the door. We find ourselves on a quiet level. He strides to the elevator and pushes the button, all without dropping me.

“I can probably walk now,” I say.

His arms tighten around me. “Nope. You’re mine tonight, Malik.”

This feels a bit like my fantasy of Rafe the Villain carrying me to his underground lair.

When the door to the elevator slides open, he rests my butt on the handrail, punches the number to our floor, and is kissing me before the doors have time to slide closed. My legs wrap around his waist, and we kiss until we have no choice but to come up for air.

When we reach our suite, he kicks the door closed and carries me to the bedroom before standing me against the wall.

“Arms over your head,” he demands. He crowds against me, one hand pinning my wrists, his mouth dragging down the skin of my throat as his other hand covers my stomach. “Spread your legs.”

I consider protesting simply out of habit but decide I like this side of Rafe. I do as he asks, but for good measure, I add, “You’re so bossy.”