Page 44 of Not Safe for Work

I make an offended noise as I pick a macaron from the box and throw it at him.

It bounces off the center of his chest as his laughter, his smile, the brightness in his eyes all begin to chip away at the wall I so carefully and purposefully built around myself.

Chapter Twelve

The next morning, I enter my bathroom to find a half-naked Rafe wearing nothing but a towel slung low on his hips. I scream. It’s not dignified. It’s the kind of scream where clueless girls in cut-offs wander into abandoned houses and are surprised when a masked man jumps out wielding a chef’s knife.

“Rafe!” I press my hand to my chest, my breath heaving in tatters. “What are you doing? You scared me half to death!”

He doesn’t react to my glass-shattering shriek, simply turning to me with his brows raised. Dark brown eyes regard me with the calm composure of a leopard.

“Using the shower. I liked it last night and have decided it hardly seems fair you’ve been hogging it.”

“This is my bathroom.” I point to the floor to illustrate my point. That wins me a derisive snort.

“It’s not yours any more than it’s mine. My back has been sore since we got here from sleeping on that stupid couch. The least you could do is share the good bathroom with me.”

He has a point, but I’m not about to admit it. After we talked about Hannah last night, it started raining again and we moved into the living room, where we stayed up late chatting while sharing another bottle of wine.

We told silly childhood stories, and he shared more about his mom and being an only child and how he played hockey in college until he hurt his knee. I tell him about my parents and my brother who works way too hard as a hedge fund manager.

It was far from the worst night I’ve ever spent with a man.

But he’s still Rafe, and he isn’t taking my bathroom.

He lifts his arm, and my entire body goes numb as I register what’s gripped in his hand.

“What is this thing?” He peers curiously at curved pink plastic adorned with shiny gold accents, all fitting far too neatly in the cradle of his large palm.

“Rafe! What is wrong with you?” I snatch my Lelo Sona 2 from his hand and hide it behind my back. “That is private. Why are you going through my things?”

“I wasn’t. It was just lying there. Almost like you used it last night.” He crosses his arms, biceps bulging as he leans a hip on the counter. My embarrassment deepens to a violent shade of crimson. “What does it do, Tris?”

That smile that knocked me senseless last night is so wide I’m surprised it can fit in the room. I should really be more careful about what I wish for.

I inhale a cleansing breath. I have nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m a grown woman, and last night, I needed to take the edge off. However, finding Rafe wearing nothing but a towel has negated every bit of that effort.

“It simulates oral sex,” I say, willing my voice to remain even. Rafe’s arms and stomach tighten, veins popping and muscles straining. His jaw tics, and he rolls his shoulders ever so slightly.

“Is that so?” His eyes drop to my hips for a fraction of a second, but I feel it straight through my soul. “How was it?”

Holy crap. Are we really talking about this? My skin bursts into fire.

“Better than any man I’ve been with,” I say, and shit, did I just insult him or myself?

His eyes sparkle with a gleam. “Maybe you’ve just been with the wrong men.”

I cock my hip and place a hand on it while looking him up and down.

“Maybe men are simply incapable of competing with a little machine,” I fire back.

Rafe’s smirk becomes the most devious, the most evil, the most Rafe I’ve ever seen. He drops his arms and steps forward, looking down at me from his lofty height.

“Is that a challenge, Trishara?” His voice is low and dangerous as his eyes rake over me, and my traitorous nipples harden into weapons-grade carbon.

I cross my arms, hoping he won’t notice, but I’m glass, and he sees right through it.

Eyes darkening, he steps closer, and my inner thighs tighten. He’s still glistening and wet, and a single drop of water is making its magnificent way down the center of his chest. All my coherent thoughts become a distant memory.