She opened her mouth to speak, but his lips descended upon hers, desperate and hot. Teeth hit teeth, tongues fought for control, lips crushed painfully.
On an airplane, gliding through clouds, she experienced the most earth-shattering kiss of her existence. She broke a little. She didn’t understand it, the heavy shift in her chest—she just knew it was Rafe. It was him finding his way in.
Breaking their kiss, Rafe pulled away. He smiled, his lips glistening with the passion their kiss consumed. Lifting his arm, she fell easily into the crook of his shoulder and he sheathed around her as she tucked in tight.
She sighed.
He laughed.
“Go to sleep, gorgeous.”
“Rafe?”
“Yeah, babe.”
“Thanks for being ridiculous and buying a plane ticket so I didn’t have to fly alone. No one’s ever been thoughtful like that toward me before. No one’s ever taken it upon themselves to make sure I felt safe.” She tilted her chin up again and looked into those damn quicksand eyes. “But I always feel safe when I’m with you. So thanks.”
He didn’t respond. He just smiled and leaned his head back against the seat again and she curled into him as much as the narrow seats would allow.
Mornings with Rafe were definitely better.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Walking outside of the baggage claim at LaGuardia Airport, following behind Fallon, who was pulling an excessively large suitcase for only a weekend trip, Rafe forgetfully reached into his jeans pockets only to realize he didn’t have any cigarettes on him.
Dammit.
“Your friend is picking you up?” he asked.
“Yeah, she texted me a few minutes ago and said she was almost here.”
Rafe noticed Marco’s SUV slowly making its way to them. People were crowding everywhere, waiting in line for cabs and buses, so he lifted his arm to signal where he was.
“That’s my brother,” he told her when Marco pulled up.
Marco met Rafe at the back of the car. Giving him a quick hug and patting him on the back, Rafe threw his duffel in the back. “Marco, this is Fallon. Fallon, my little brother Marco.”
Fallon stepped forward, her feet covered in a pair of flat sandals, which was the first time he’d seen her in a pair of shoes that didn’t have a lethally high heel on them. She looked even shorter next to Marco’s tall frame when he stepped onto the curb to greet her. “Nice to meet you, Fallon.”
“Likewise,” she said formally, then, still holding his hand in hers, she cocked up a brow. “Are you the little brother who bakes?”
Marco laughed and shook his head. “Women. They only care about me for my cake-making abilities.”
Rafe shook his head, knowing damn well Marco used his “cake-making abilities” to his advantage to impress women. Seriously, what the hell was it about a man who could bake a damn cupcake?
Fallon dropped his hand and joined in on his laughter. “I’m sure women care about more than just your cake-making abilities.”
Marco smirked. “Thank you, Fallon. I’d like to think my abilities go way above and beyond making cakes.” His eyebrows danced. Fuckin’ flirt. But Fallon wasn’t taking his bait.
“I agree. There are breads, and pies, and cookies. You have a lot of desirable options.”
Rafe laughed. This woman just stuck it to his brother.
A heat that Rafe was sure he’d never seen on his brother before fanned across his cheeks. “This little lady’s got jokes, huh?” He laughed. “You comin’ to Sunday dinner? Dad would get a kick outta you. And I’m sure Tilly would appreciate another female in the house.”
“Tilly?”
“Our sister-in-law,” Rafe answered. “Yeah, babe. Why don’t you come?”
“Oh, no. Thank you, though.”
Marco smirked, and Rafe knew he was about to get his way. Marco usually did. “No, little lady. I wasn’t actually giving you an option. You see, Rafe here hasn’t brought a woman home since that chick he snuck into the house, stoned outta his mind, after his junior prom. So Rafe’s due to bring a pretty new face to dinner. And Tilly is making Mom’s salmon ravioli. It’s fantastic. And I’m baking a chocolate cake with orange buttercream and ganache. What do ya say?”
Something about the way Fallon’s smile flitted sweetly across her face melted away his controlled demeanor. It sliced a possessive urge through him, one that made him want to grab her hand, pull her against him, and kiss her until neither one of them could breathe. She was beautiful, and she’d given him a small glimpse in that sweet smile of hers to a Fallon he wanted to see more of. She was always so poised, so polished, but that smile she’d just had was lighthearted and easy. Carefree.