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And it didn’t take any great imagination to call forth a picture of Rafe’s hand around his cock, of the slow, smooth glide of his fist as he pumped it up and down his ever hardening shaft.
Shifting so the pillow was under her again, Jane turned her face into it and screamed.
Stupid. Horrible. Traitorous. Bloody. Fucking. Hormones.
Rafe emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam.
Naked.
Because of course he was.
Like her, and despite everything that had happened between them in the last 24 hours, he was still trying to win Charlie’s bet. He didn’t know he was a lot closer to winning than he realised.
Jane wanted him. Desperately. She’d told him as much in words and in the heated looks she threw his way every time he flashed one of those damnable grins at her.
But what did Rafe want? A kiss? A stupid, meaningless kiss. He’d had his mouth all over her body every night for the last three nights, so what was one little kiss on the lips worth to him?
Nothing.
After checking the door was locked, he flicked off the light and climbed into bed, wrapped his arm around her waist and curled his large body around her smaller one.
“Good night,” she murmured, trying to ignore the thick erection flexing against her back.
Firm lips pressed against her shoulder in a distinct upwards curve. “Good night, beautiful.”
Thinking she’d managed to evade any more talk for the night, she closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep, but her overactive imagination—and the handsome lawyer behind her—were making it near impossible.
“Jane?”
“Yes?”
“You’re fidgeting. Everything okay?”
“I can’t sleep,” she grumbled.
His voice was practically a purr. “Want me to go down on you?”
She tried in vain to stop her mouth from kicking up at the corners. “I always want that,” she said, half turning in his arms. “Then I always want more.”
Rafe nuzzled against her neck and snuck his hand under her chemise to cup her breast, stroked the pad of his thumb over her nipple. “You know what you have to do if you want more, Janie.”
Jane bit her lip and focussed on the pleasure he was causing, on the intense yet delicious ache spreading outwards from her nipple and rushing through her body, ending in a pulse of sensation in her clit. She pressed her thighs together and whimpered.
Rafe misread the sound. “Would being my wife really be so bad?”
No.
Being his wife wouldn’t be bad at all.
In fact, it would be beyond wonderful. She knew that because that’s exactly how she’d always imagined being with Rafe—properly being with him—would be. Wonderful. Magical. Beautiful. Special.
It’s how their first kiss had been, how their first time had been. But then….
He’d left.
And how did she know he wouldn’t leave her again?
“Why are you here?” she whispered.
