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Not all men could pull off a bright red shirt, but he surely could. It was perfect with his dark skin and black hair. And oh, his hair. He wore it loose tonight. She’d never seen it that way before. Straight, black as night, and longer than her own. It flowed down his back and over his shoulders like an ebony curtain.
Whoever said long hair was not masculine had never set eyes on Rafe Grayhawk.
He sat the very end of the bar with an older gentleman sporting the same dark skin and black eyes. His father?
She took three long gulps of her drink. There was one way to find out. She excused herself to Amber and walked toward Rafe. A tequila sunrise sat in front of him. A beer in front of the other man.
“Hello,” she said.
He looked up. “Hi there. What are you doing here?”
“Same as you, I’d say. Having a drink.” She gave him what she hoped was a coy smile. “Who’s your friend?”
The older man’s eyes lit up like Christmas. “Aren’t you kind? I’m Jack Grayhawk. Rafe’s father.”
“Dad, this is Angelina Bay,” Rafe said.
“Yes, I know. I did some work at your ranch some years back. Nice to see you.”
The older man held out his hand and Angie took it. Same great looks as his sons, same warm grip.
No sparks.
As an experiment, she lightly touched Rafe’s forearm. A jolt shot through her.
Yep. Sparks.
Out of nowhere, she said, “Would you like to dance with me, Rafe?”
Rafe’s eyebrows shot up. Silence.
Jack Grayhawk cleared his throat. “Son, I thought I’d taught you this a long time ago. When a beautiful young lady asks you to dance, you say yes.”
Did Rafe’s cheeks actually redden just a little?
Angie smiled. “Your father’s right. Could I have the pleasure?”
Rafe stood, but said nothing. Black jeans curved over that beautiful backside. Angie’s breath caught.
The DJ started a new song. A slow one. Was that good or bad? Angie couldn’t decide. She’d be able to touch him, but he might think she’d talked to the DJ ahead of time.
He didn’t seem too daunted though. He took her hand—yep, sparks—and led her to the floor. He pulled her against his body and started swaying to the melody.
Angie closed her eyes and breathed against his neck. He smelled the same, maybe a bit cleaner, but still outdoors and slightly coconut. Strands of hair tickled her cheeks. Perfect.
The perfect dance.
Her nipples tightened against his chest until she was certain he’d feel them poking him. She didn’t care Let him know how turned on she was, what he did to her. If he didn’t know by now, he was clueless anyway.
She inhaled again, savoring his masculine scent, his manly chest, his coconut hair. Yes, it was his hair. Rafe used coconut shampoo. For some reason, that fact turned her on even more.
Her nipples ached. Ached for his kisses, his tongue, his teeth. Her sex pulsed between her legs in dreamy time with the music. Mmm, how his lips had melted her flesh as he pleasured her, stroked her to orgasm with his fingers and tongue.
She was wet now. The moisture was apparent as she moved against him.
If only she could lean upward, take his lips with her own, kiss him with the passion and desire pent within her. Those beautiful pink lips. Talented lips. Lips like none she’d ever kissed before.
Rafe’s lips.
