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I could convince myself to believe a lot of things, but I didn’t think I could convince myself to believe that one any longer.
The man wasn’t a criminal.
He had been put in jail for protecting humans.
I was way too tired to consider the injustice of that.
When he tucked us both into his bed, I rolled closer to him. He pulled me against his side, and I loved the way his skin felt against mine.
I was insane for sleeping with him so fast.
I had to be insane for it.
But I didn’t have the heart to care. Not when he felt so good, and made me feel so good.
I fell asleep in his arms, more content than I had been in years.
In the morning,I woke up from sexy, sexy dreams to hushed voices in the kitchen again. Really, Rafael’s apartment was the worst design for someone trying to sleep while anyone else was home.
I rolled over—and then fell off the bed with a yelp, followed by a crash.
A groaned laugh escaped me.
Yeah, I’d just fallen out of his bed.
Great.
“Tater-tot?” Rafael’s voice floated up to me from the kitchen. “What happened?”
“I’m fine,” I called back, sitting up and pushing my hair off my face.
His footsteps were on the stairs a minute later, and he entered the room in the same moment I stood up.
Yep, stood up too quickly and stumbled. That time, I caught myself on the bed, at least.
His lips curved at the sight of me. “You don’t look broken, thankfully.”
“Luckily for you, I’m not.”
I crossed the room, taking him in. He’d put on a sleek sports coat, a button-down shirt, and some nice pants and shoes. He’d also had his hair cut like Sebastian’s, but a little longer and less perfect.
In short, helookedrich for the first time since we’d met.
Richand I… we had a past.
And we didn’t get along.
I was used to seeing him casual and messy, with joggers and a tee, so I was not at all prepared for the weird feelings that rolled through me at the sight of him. “What happened to your hair, and what the hell are you wearing?”
“I got a much-needed haircut, and I think these are clothes.” He glanced down at himself. “Yep. Just clothes.”
My lips pressed together.
He pulled me into his arms without questioning my problem with his haircut and clothing, and murmured, “I think these lips need to look kissed.”
Did I protest?
No, I did not.
