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Yep, definitely too well.Sooooo… can I come over?
Time slowed to a crawl as she awaited Abby’s response, minutes dragging on so long they felt like hours, until…
Abby:He went to bed already…
Jane:*sigh* of course he did.
Abby:… but his window is probably open.
Jane grinned.Have I told you lately how much I love you?
Abby:Not nearly enough.
Jane:I love you. I love you. I love you.
Abby:Wolf says if you’re gunna bang Rafe to keep the noise down. He’s on a deadline.
Jane:I can’t promise that *wink* But I promise to try *kisses*
Rafe’s eyelids cracked apart at the sound of his window being shoved open; the feminine grunting accompanying it had him rolling over to face the intruder.
Well, the intruder’s arse.
Jane had obviously climbed through feet first and was leaning on the windowsill as she eased her foot onto the floor.
He reached up and flicked on the lamp beside his bed.
The plush denim-clad arse pointed in his direction froze. “Busted,” she said in a sing-song voice.
“What are you doing?” Rafe said, propping himself on his elbow.
“Climbing through your window.” She righted herself and turned to face him. “Duh.”
“I can see that.” Rafe frowned. “Why?”
She shrugged out of her coat and dropped it on the floor. Her T-shirt quickly followed, revealing a sheer black camisole that hid nothing from him, and his mouth watered at the sight of her perfect breasts and the hard little peaks atop them straining against the fabric.
“I came to collect my winnings.”
His cock swelling fast, Rafe swallowed hard. “This isn’t about Charlie’s stupid bet, is it? Because you won’t win by cheating.”
“No,” she said, toeing off her sneakers and unbuttoning her jeans, doing her damnedest to put him on edge. And succeeding. “This morning you said if I hit Ollie, you’d eat my pussy every day for a month.”
Rafe’s grin was slow but steady, spreading across his face like a languidly stretching cat. He had said that, hadn’t he?
In a fit of insanity, when he wasn’t really sure what the hell he was thinking or doing or saying, he’d said he would eat her pussy if she hit his brother.
He’d told himself at the time that he’d said what he did to make her laugh and help her relax, make throwing the heavy knives easier. And he’d known she wouldn’t actually throw a knife at Ollie for something as basic as a tongue-tickle.
But that wasn’t the whole truth.
Yes, he’d made her laugh, had felt her body soften in his arms, felt the tension leave her muscles, and she’d thrown that knife with painful accuracy. Then she’d thumped Ollie and looked at him with a hunger he knew only too well. And he’d known in that moment why he’d said what he did.
Because being there for her wasn’t enough.
He wanted her. Needed her. Like he needed air to breathe. And he was willing to employ any means necessary to have her. To take her and keep her and make her his again.
Only now he was imagining using his promise of carnal delights for another purpose. As much as he wanted to lick and suck and touch, wanted to make her sigh and laugh and scream, he wouldn’t. Not yet.
