Page 29

“I mean, it’s okay. I’m just not used to sitting on the floor. My back won’t thank me later though.”

I swivel my attention to him. “Really? You’re young. Look at my grandmother, she’s eighty years old. She’s been doing this for all of her life. You don’t see her complaining about her back.”

“You got me.” A smirk peeks out. “Maybe later, you can give me a massage.”

“Keep dreaming, D’Angelo.”

“I try.” He chuckles and digs into the food.

With every mouthful, Rafe asks what each dish is. Between Ji and I—and surprisingly Fig, we pretty much explain the entire table. Rafe is truly out of his element. Even though he’s an Italian guy from the Chicago burbs, he impresses me with the way he tries everything my grandmother made. Except one thing.

Feeling Rafe’s eyes on me, I grab my chopsticks and spoon and start eating. Like the lunch fare my halmeoni spread before us earlier, I make a lettuce wrap and shove the entirety into my mouth and chew. This time there aren’t any innuendos from Rafe.

The rest of the day is quiet. With the rainy weather, there isn’t much we can do so we sit in the living room and talk to each other. There’s a television, but the set is so old I’m not sure it works.

Even my grandmother is sitting with us, and I’m surprised when Fig explains to Halmeoni—in Korean, no less—about the Warrior Black band and its members. Rafe isn’t happy that Fig is exposing his and Bobby’s past antics, but he claims it’s all in good fun. I think otherwise.

I know damn well Rafe likes sex and frequents a specific BDSM club in Las Vegas because I overheard the bus driver talking on the phone about it. Granted, I don’t know what he does there, or what kink gives him pleasure, but I know he goes.

Ji and Fig are comical, especially the way they move and talk in sync, but don’t realize it. It makes me wonder if they are more than just driver and bodyguard. But I have never seen Halmeoni laugh so much, so I’m sort of glad these men are here. They are a welcome distraction to what happened during my father’s brief visit.

Around eight p.m., Halmeoni suggests the guys stay the night. Before I can argue, Rafe accepts the offered room. Then I realize that the room they will be sharing is small, with only one full-size bed.

After Rafe and the guys settle in the bedroom they will be sharing, I end up in my own room, falling onto my full-size bed, laughing my butt off. Imagining three big men in one small room is hilarious. Who will sleep with who on the bed and who will sleep on the floor?

In answer to my question, my bedroom door creaks open, and I jolt upright. Rafe walks in and quickly closes the door behind him.

“What do you want, Rafe?” I ask, chuckling as my brain still imagines the scenario in the other room.

“What are you laughing about?” he asks, frowning at me. He doesn’t move from the door.

“Nothing,” I warble, but quickly sober. “What do you need?”

“Does your grandmother have another room?” He’s serious, and I try not to laugh again.

“No.”

“Then can I sleep with you?”

“No,” I say flatly.

“Come on. Are you going to make me suffer?” He’s trying to give me puppy-dog eyes, and it almost works. Almost.

“I’m not making you suffer. You accepted my grandmother’s offer to sleep here. I never said you had to,” I tell him, though guilt begins to creep in. “There’s always the couch. It’s hard, but Halmeoni swears it’s good for your posture.”

I grin because I slept on that couch once. It was the worst night’s sleep I have ever had.

“I sat on that couch earlier today and it feels like it’s made of marble.”

“It’s actually granite,” I explain without laughing again.

His dark blue eyes go wide before the corners of Rafe’s mouth dip even lower. “Lyric, I’m groveling here. Please, let me sleep with you. It’s only going to be for one night.”

I so want to say no again, but something in the way he’s looking at me, and knowing it’s only for tonight, makes me say yes. “But on one condition.”

“Anything.” Rafe loses his frown and his gorgeous smile is back on his face.

I stand, but keep a couple of feet away from him and fold my arms across my chest. “We are not having sex.” I throw all my conviction into that statement despite knowing he will probably try to change my mind.