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“Stalagmites rise up from the floor, stalactites hang from the ceiling.” Rubbing my sweaty palms on my joggers, I add, “You bought mePetrology for Dummies.”
His laugh is beautiful and drives into my chest like a key, unlocking memories of other times I’ve made him laugh like that. I harden my jaw and shoo them away.
“Of course.” He waves a careless hand around him. “Well, do you like it?”
“Did your other dates like it?”
Irritation moves across his face like a shadow. “You’re the first woman I’ve taken here.” His attention drops to my lips, and he licks his own. “You’ll be the last, too.”
I try to keep my breathing steady. Try not to fall for his charm. It’s crazy how easily I saw through it when we first met, yet now it mists my vision and threatens to veer me off track.
I run my finger over the embroidered border of the napkin, ignoring the weight of his stare. “So, you’re back to playing the perfect gentleman.”
“Would you prefer it if I wasn’t a gentleman, Penny?”
I slide my gaze up to his, just as a server appears at our table.
“May I suggest a wine pairing for your meal?” she asks.
Rafe’s eyes never leave mine. “Fuck off, Julia.”
I don’t know who the gasp comes from, me, Julia, or both of us, but when she scurries away, embarrassment heats my cheeks.
“That was fuckingrude.”
Rafe is the dictionary definition of unfazed. He acts like he hasn’t heard me, then tightens his cufflinks and leans into the light of the flickering candle between us.
“Would you like to know a secret, Queenie?”
“No.”Yes.
He abruptly reaches around the table, then there’s a sickening scraping noise as he drags my chair over the limestone floor so I’m sitting right next to him.
I stare down at our thighs touching. My soft sweats beside his sharp slacks. Tatty to his suave. My next breath stutters. Fuck, how I want to hate this man.
His familiar scent weakens me as he snakes his arm over the back of my chair and brushes his lips against my temple.
“You were right all along.”
“About what?” I breathe out.
“About me pretending to be a gentleman.” The backs of his knuckles graze over the nape of my neck, raising all the goosebumps there. “But only to other women, never you. There’s never been any pretense with you, Penny. When you talk, I listen because I enjoy what you have to say. When I fuck you from behind, it’s because I know I also have the privilege of fucking you face-on. And when you leave my bed, I can’t bear the thought of it being forever.”
I can’t do anything but stare down at our legs touching. I fear if I move, the burning behind my eyeballs will morph into something more. I’m torn, ripped right down the fucking middle. Half of me wants to scream at him some more, the other half urges me to tilt my chin and kiss him, if only to taste the confession that just came out of his mouth.
I do neither of these things. Can’t. I only stare at our legs until another server comes over in place of Julia and timidly asks us about wine pairings again.
The drive home is cushioned by Nappa leather and the familiar purr of the engine. Rafe’s windshield had been fixed by the time I finished my third desert, and I kind of wish it hadn’t. There’s no way I’d be so close to dozing off if I were in a stranger’s sedan, even if Rafe was driving it.
I’m full of food, wine, and contentment, and my lids grow heavier with every passing streetlight. I’m not so far gone that I don’t notice Rafe glance at me then turn down the radio and turn up my heated seat.
He’s transparent. I know he thinks if it’s warm enough, and if he’s quiet enough, I’ll fall asleep, just like old times.
The night has been tinged with a hopeful glow. Despite my best efforts, I’ve laughed a lot tonight. Felt things in my chest and between my thighs that I wish I didn’t. Christ, it’d be so easy to fall asleep here and wake up in the morning to Rafe stroking my forehead, but I have way too much pride and bitterness inside me, and he still has so much to prove.
Squinting through the windshield, I take stock of where we are. In less than a minute or so, we’ll be pulling up outside my apartment. But then the turn for Main Street passes on the left and I roll my head to look at Rafe. “You’re going the wrong way.” When I’m met with silence, my stomach clenches. “Hey, where are we going?”
Rafe’s knuckles tighten on the wheel, at odds with his indifferent tone. “Home.”
