His hot mouth scattered light kisses over her shoulder, his strong hands pinning her body flush against his as she moved above him.
The leisure friction that abraded her deep inside tightened as Rafe’s teeth sank into the pad of her shoulder. He groaned, and the satisfaction she received from that deep, heady rasp reached all the way to her toes. She slipped away as Rafe’s own release sent her blindly over the edge once more. She’d reached a new nirvana and she was lost to the sensations that pulled her in and held her imprisoned. She stilled, Rafe stilled. Unable to move a single muscle, she stayed wrapped around him, her forehead resting against his shoulder as his lips tended to the heated flesh of her neck.
It was seconds, minutes, hours, days, eternity before she felt her body lowered against the mattress. She was present, awake, in the same realm of existence as him, yet she couldn’t find a way to pull herself from the depths of euphoria to reach him.
The soft flutter of a single kiss brushed gently over each of her eyelids, then one on her lips, before she felt the heavy warmth of Rafe’s body close around her from behind. His arm sheathed her stomach and pulled her in closely to him. Secured in his arms, tucked tightly against him, she sighed and slipped that last little bit over the edge.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Fallon was a bed hog. A selfish sleeper. A kicker, a moaner, sometimes a talker, apparently a snorer, and most definitely a cover stealer. In her defense, she’d never shared a bed with anyone. Never. No man had shut his eyes and drifted into dreamland on her watch. She wouldn’t let them.
So, needless to say, when she flailed her leg out to the side and attempted to roll herself up in her comforter sometime before dawn, she was more than startled to feel a hard body beneath her leg preventing her from reaching the other half of the comforter. Then she panicked. But only because the sight of Rafe asleep in her bed pricked a flutter in her chest that made her smile.
She wanted him there. As alarming as that should have been, it was comforting.
Slowly, so she didn’t wake him, she lifted her leg from the dip in his back and straightened the cover that was barely covering his naked rear as he lay spread out on his stomach, thick arms bent above his head and his face buried into the pillow.
It was still dark, but the privacy of her property allowed her the ability to enjoy the large panel windows that lined every outside wall of her second-story bedroom without the protection of blinds or curtains. The moon fluttered over the mountains and sprinkled a haze of light into her room—almost as if drawn to Rafe the same way she was. The moonlight found all of his contours, all the ridges and dips in his muscles, and highlighted them perfectly, permitting the shadows to dance around them, refining the beauty the light was creating over his back and shoulders.
Lifting her hand, she gently skimmed her finger along the outline of the large angel wings that spanned the width of his back and reached all the way down past his hips. It was beautiful. A kneeling man with his head hung between his shoulders was in the center of his back, the wings protruding from his back. It was so beautifully crafted that it appeared that the wings belonged to both Rafe and the man. She continued to trace the intricate feathers, but as she glided the tip of her finger over his spine, he stirred. And she froze.
A sleep-induced rasp staggered from his parted mouth as he rolled onto his back, the comforter falling lower on his hips. The sharp cut that pointed toward his manhood was narrow and defined. The muscles of his stomach were ones a woman would be thankful for and the curves of his pectorals were simply delicious. Just as she’d imagined, his arms were fully covered from wrist to shoulder in a mix of beautifully designed and skilled works of art. His arms were quickly becoming her absolute favorite physical feature of his. Arms that held power and security and strength. All things she was realizing she enjoyed wrapped around her.
She blinked and shifted her gaze to his scruffy face. His buzzed head was sexy and the way his eyes fluttered beneath his lids as he slept was adorable. If she hadn’t been worried about waking him, she would’ve leaned in to press her mouth to the deep valley in his lip and cascade her mouth over his jaw and down his neck, following the length of his scar.
He looked rough, and she smiled to herself. If only her mom and dad could see her now. Taking her clothes off for money and sleeping with a man who looked like he could kill with his bare hands, rob a bank, front a rock band, and give a woman an orgasm with his eyes. Wouldn’t they be proud?
He inhaled deeply through his nose and stretched his body, slowly opening his eyes. The ebony color seemed to reach a new depth of dark in his sleepy daze—a depth that was endless and capturing, like quicksand.