Power and Possession(64)

When the madness was over, he kissed her, his mouth resting gently on her nape.

In voiceless apology.

Then he gently lifted her in his arms, walked to a sofa only faintly visible in the light from the shaded windows, sat, set her on his lap, and held her close.

Only the sound of harsh breathing filled the silence.

Coherent thought still in abeyance.

Normalcy waiting in the wings.

The sudden tension in her spine should have warned him, but he was still coming down from one of the better orgasms of his life. So when Nicole swiveled around and slammed her palms against his chest, he automatically eased back.

Then she wound up and slapped him hard. “You fucking asshole!”

He winced but otherwise didn’t respond; he deserved it.

“And if you’re going to get pissy about who I was with last night,” Nicole muttered, defiant and glaring, pelting him with a flurry of two-handed sharp, stinging slaps, “you better tell me who you were with.”

Fuck, that hurt. She’d come enough times to be a little more grateful, he thought, bearing her assault with restraint. “Whoever it was,” he said, a small irritation entering his voice at the thought of who she’d been with, “I didn’t send them any fucking roses.”

“Whoever?”

“Hey, watch it,” he growled, jerking his head back. “I like my eyes. And if you need a fucking name—names… but no way he was going to be that honest—I’ll ask Simon. He drove her home.”

“God, you’re a massive shit!” Nicole slammed his shoulder with a hard chop.

“Maybe if she’d entertained me as well as you did de Barre,” Rafe drawled, cranky after that painful chop to his muscle, even more cranky about de Barre, “I’d remember her name.”

“Fuck you!”

Grunting as her fist damn near broke his nose, he grabbed both her hands and put an end to the one-sided militancy. “You want to fuck, babe?” he murmured, his insolent gaze up close and personal, his fingers viselike on her wrists. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

“Maybe if you learn some goddamned manners,” she snapped, trying to shake him loose, “I might think about it.” The brilliant blue of her eyes literally glowed with a palpable anger. “Do you ever fucking ask first?”

He softly exhaled, the answer not likely to please her. “What do you want me to say?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said with withering contempt. “Maybe something like the truth?”

He drew in a small breath before he spoke, reminding himself to keep the stricture out of his voice. “Okay, you want the truth? You’re a hypocrite.” His lashes drifted a fraction lower, the gold of his eyes only faintly visible. “You came five fucking times. You’re welcome.”

She went completely still.

“You’ve been indulged, pussycat.” His voice was ultrasoft. “You’re very beautiful. You’re used to getting your way.”

“And you’re not?” He was expecting concessions from her—damn him—when he didn’t know the meaning of the word. “You practically banged me to kingdom come, you prick! I hope you had fun!”

There was a small pause while he softly inhaled, debated various tactful and nontactful answers, wondered when the game had changed, why he didn’t feel like walking out when she was—granted, in his selfish opinion—a bitch. “Look, I’m sorry,” he said quietly, indifferent to all the myriad problems and subtleties of their volatile stances, wanting her anyway, every way. “Truly.” He brought her hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “You’re right. I was a prick. There’s no excuse. None.” He dropped her hands, leaned back, spread his arms along the top of the sofa, shut his eyes briefly, then dipped his head. “Let me make it up to you.”

She looked at him, penitent and contrite and so damned beautiful she didn’t wonder that he had the world at his feet. Rich or poor. It wouldn’t matter. And she understood too that they were both struggling with their new, challenging, occasionally righteous feelings. “I guess I could have been less bitchy,” she said quietly. “But from now on, just ask first. Okay?”

His small startle reflex quickly contained, he gazed at her from under his lowered lashes. “Like how?”

“Lord, Rafe.” Nicole sighed. “I don’t know. Figure it out.”

He ran his palm over his face and blew out a restive breath. “I don’t do this… exclusivity shit. I share, for Christ’s sake. It’s part of the game. And now”—he bared his teeth in a rictus of displeasure—“I want to lock up your pussy and hang the key around my neck.” He snorted. “How’s that for a mind fuck?”