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My lips tremble, and I look away. Crap. Not the right reaction when a gorgeous guy you’ve been lusting after makes you a compliment. What’s wrong with me today?
“Besides the Porsche…” He places a fingertip under my chin, lifts my face back up. He winks at me. “Anything else you would like? Selling my stuff might take time.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?” I blurt out. “You don’t really know me.”
Hell, Meg, shut up. I want to bang my head against a wall. Someone shoot me now.
“I know you,” he says. “We haven’t talked much, and you think I know nothing about you, but I see you.”
It makes me smile, and oh dear God, I have to be scaring him, swinging between moods. He must think I’m going crazy.
“There it is!” He takes my hand, lifts it to his mouth. His eyes sparkle. “A smile.”
I tug on my hand, but he turns his head, brushes his lips over my fingers, and I shiver, feeling it everywhere.
“Last chance to ask for something,” he warns teasingly, grinning against my skin.
I lick my lips, and his gaze zeroes in on them, laser-hot. “Take me home?”
He nods, his grin fading, a serious air returning to his expression. “Of course.”
He takes my hand in his and leads the way to his street and his black Mustang. By the time it sinks in that he thinks I want to go back to my apartment, it’s too late to explain I meant his home, that the whole point was not to spend the night alone—and it feels weird to speak out now. To show more weakness.
So I buckle in and watch him as he starts the car, watch his strong hands on the gearshift and the wheel.
Then I close my eyes and drift away.
***
“Meg. Megan.” The soft, masculine voice is delicious. It drips over my senses, hot and sensuous.
Rafe, I think, floating in the darkness of sleep. Rafe.
But I’m too far gone to reply. I’m warm, comfortable, curled up against a soothing beat like a heart, a smoky, musky scent surrounding me. I don’t want to move. Don’t want to surface.
“Here we go,” he whispers, and I sway in my warm cradle, as if we’re walking. I bury my nose in scratchy cloth, curl my hand behind his neck, in the fine hair curling there.
Mmm… Rafe. I’m in his arms. They’re holding me, cradling me to his chest. Feels so good. It’s his heart beating beneath my ear, its bass drawing me back under.
I fight the pull, try to open my eyes. My lids are like lead. Where are we? Still on his sofa, in his apartment? Why do I feel as if I’ve lost time?
More swaying. A soft curse.
Oh right, we’re walking.
What?
I twist, forcing my eyes open, my pulse lurching. “Rafe?”
“I’m here. It’s okay.” He shifts me in his arms. “I need your keys.”
“My keys?” I’m blinking up at him. His golden eyes look amused. “Why?”
“To open your apartment door.”
Oh. Oh! Memory rushes back. I glance around. We’re outside the apartment, on the staircase landing. “You came up the stairs carrying me?”
“Had to. You were fast asleep.”
