Power and Possession(71)
An almost invisible thought drifted into his consciousness, filling him with gladness: Take good care of her.
A first for him.
He fell asleep with a smile.
Nicole came awake to a low mutter of obscenities, half opened her eyes, and found the source of the sound seated at his desk, marginally dressed in shorts, his bronzed, muscled body a killer sight to wake up to. “Did you sleep?” she murmured drowsily, thinking once she woke up she was going to throw herself at him and beg for sex.
Rafe swiveled around, his smile bathing her in sunshine. “I did. It’s still early though. Go back to sleep.”
“What time is it?”
“Five thirty.”
“What are you doing?”
He tapped his laptop with his finger. “E-mails.” He grinned. “Some people actually want an answer.”
She slowly stretched, then sniffed as a familiar sweet scent drifted into her nostrils. “Why do I smell roses?”
“There’re a few roses here.”
She came up on her elbows, scanned the room, gasped, and sat bolt upright. “A few?” she whispered. Every square inch of surface, floor and furniture, was filled with bouquets and baskets of roses.
“I told them to send what they had. I should have been more specific. I guess the guy figured this was his chance to pay for his kid’s university education. There’re more in the hall. And downstairs… everywhere downstairs.” He took a small breath and held her gaze. “This is me trying to apologize for last night. I messed up and I’m sorry. You deserve better than some wild-ass animal going crazy.” He smiled, a small private smile. “I don’t actually know what’s going on with us, but it’s good. So maybe you should pull the covers up”—he exhaled, made a little motion with one hand—“because you’re tempting as hell, I’m trying to behave, and I haven’t had much practice.” His mouth twitched. “I’m giving my hard-on a serious pep talk about right and wrong.”
A playful light warmed her eyes. “So if I said I wanted to lick you all over, it might be a problem?”
“Just a little.” He dragged in a breath, his gaze sliding over the round, luscious swell of her breasts, downward to the bit of sheet still covering her sex, then flicking back up to meet her eyes. “Toy with me,” he said softly, “and I can’t guarantee I’ll behave.” A small half smile slowly lifted one corner of his mouth. “Or are you looking for some serious action?”
“I was thinking more like wake-up sex,” she murmured.
“There’s not just one kind, pussycat,” he said, hushed and low, shutting down his laptop. “Put in your order. I’ll see what I can do.”
“You’re going to piss me off is what you’re going to do unless you reword that comment,” she said, her eyes alight with resentment. “As far as I know, there’s only one kind of wake-up sex.”
He scowled. “Speaking of pissed off, I don’t care to hear about that one kind, okay?”
Since she suddenly wanted to lick that pulse beating wildly at his throat, then move downward to taste his entire hard, drool-worthy body, she wasn’t above reversing course. “My fault. Let’s start over. How about we have our own version of wake-up sex?”
He blinked, got his temper under control stat, and came to his feet. “I can do that.” He reached for the zipper on his shorts. “You start, I’ll follow, that way we’re both singin’ the same song.” But he’d no more than half unzipped when his phone rang. “Ordinarily, I’d ignore it”—he gave Nicole a quick smile as he pulled his phone from his pocket—“but there’s so much shit going down this morning—Oh hell, I gotta take this.” He dragged his zipper back up in some Freudian act of diffidence, hit the Answer bar, and said, “Hi, Mum. What’s going on?”
Reaching the bed, he held up his hand, fingers splayed to indicate five minutes, then sat down and listened, nodding once, twice, before speaking. “I went to the club last night so I turned my phone off for a while. It’s so loud there you can’t hear it anyway. Nothing to worry about. Everything’s good.” He grunted. “No, really. Tell Anton to chill. If I’m ever in trouble, believe me, he’ll be the first person I call. I know, I know. I should have answered last night. My phone’s on now, so call whenever. How’s Titus?” He knew that was always a topic of conversation during which he only had to listen. Which he did, his eyes on the clock and after a respectable interval, he made an excuse. “Henny’s at the door. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”