Twelve Days Until the Wedding
Victoria struggled to get her bearings. Her brain was mired in a fog, she was wearing last night’s clothes, and she had no idea what time it was. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, only to come face-to-face with Rafael, who lay beside her in bed, sleeping peacefully.
His toned shoulders and chest peeked above the covers, making her wonder if the rest of him was bare. If she reached down to touch him, she’d have her answer. But on the chance he was a light sleeper, she was not going there.
Bad enough that she was in his bedroom. In his bed.
She took a deep breath and willed the memories to return. Last night, she’d come back to his apartment to wait for her ride-share. And she’d lain down in the hopes of easing her dizziness. But instead of reviving after a few minutes, she passed out on his bed. Judging from the light peeking under the shades, the sun had already risen.
Oh God. She’d spent the entire night at his place.
But nothing had happened. She was fully dressed. Besides, if anything had happened, she would have remembered it, regardless of her fuzzy brain.
She was tempted to grab her things and flee. Make a quick exit to avoid any awkwardness. But leaving while Rafael was still asleep would be a coldhearted move. A call-back to her callous behavior in Baja. At the very least, she needed to thank him for taking care of her.
Unfortunately, now that she was awake, her full bladder demanded attention. On her left, a sliding door revealed a closet filled with clothes. Beside it was another door. She eased out of bed and slunk across the room. When she tested the door handle, it opened to reveal a tiny bathroom. Barely big enough for one person, but perfect for her needs.
After relieving herself, she took stock in the mirror. Hideous. Her braid had come undone, her mascara was hopelessly smeared, and her breath was disgusting. She unbraided her hair and ran her fingers through it, letting the dark strands fall loose around her shoulders. The only way to salvage the makeup was to scrub it off completely. Three swigs of minty mouthwash took care of her morning breath.
She slipped back into bed and checked her phone. A few texts from Connor, but nothing urgent. A text from Araceli. And one from her father. She braced herself, hoping he hadn’t noticed she’d been gone all night.
For once, the universe cut her a break.
Heading to Napa on an early flight. Back on Weds @ noon.
Yes. Two solid days of freedom.
When she set down her phone, Rafael was stirring. He blinked and smiled at her. “Good morning.”
His voice spilled over her like warm honey, the same bedroom voice he’d used in Baja, when he woke her every morning.
“Umm…hi.” She tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ears. “I’m sorry I passed out in your bed. Thanks for letting me crash, but I should probably take off.”
He chuckled. “Hear that?”
She strained her ears, suddenly aware of noises emanating from outside the bedroom door. Low voices. Footsteps. The beep of a microwave. She inhaled the tantalizing aroma of coffee. “Your cousins?”
“They’re getting ready for work. So, unless you want to deal with a million questions, you’d better sit tight for now.” He sat up and stretched, putting his shirtless upper body on full display, then grabbed his phone from the nightstand. “It’s seven forty, so we have about forty-five minutes until they leave. Maybe an hour.”
“An hour?” She stared at him, trying to pull away from the lure of his sculpted body. Her gaze lingered on his broad chest and the rows of tattoos running down his muscular arms. “Couldn’t you put a shirt on?”
He smirked. “Why? Are you tempted?”
Even if she was tempted, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. She wiped her hand across her forehead. “It’s roasting in here. Any chance you could turn down the heat?”
“The thermostat’s in the living room. Dario cranks it up too high, so I usually turn it down when I go to sleep, but I forgot last night.” He gave her a roguish smile. “It doesn’t help that you’re fully dressed.”
His mocking tone set her pulse racing. If this was a challenge, she wasn’t backing down. “You want me to take off my clothes? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
He set down his phone, giving her his full attention. “You slept in my bed all night and I never touched you. I think I can control myself.”
She glared at him. If he was going to tempt her with those luscious muscles and sexy tattoos, then two could play at that game. She peeled off her cashmere sweater and gave a sigh of relief. Much better. Lifting up her hips, she removed her pants and tossed them on the floor. All that remained were a red lace bra and matching panties.
When he gaped at her, she raised her eyebrows. “What? You said you could control yourself.”
“You didn’t mention you were wearing Victoria’s Secret underwear.”
“These aren’t Victoria’s Secret. How gauche. They’re from La Perla. Much classier.” She loved this set. The bra made her breasts appear at least a cup size bigger.
His voice was a low growl. “You’re playing dirty.”
“No dirtier than you. You’re the one who’s half-naked.” She pulled the blankets up to her waist but left her breasts on display. Then she wondered if she’d gone too far. Because even if her intent had been payback, she was having a hard time resisting him.
When their eyes met, it was all she could do not to throw herself at him and press her body against his. But a loud pounding on the door doused her lust.
“Yo, Rafael,” a voice called out. “You up yet?”
She recognized the speaker as Ernesto, whom she’d met at Araceli’s. Giving a squeak of terror, she dove under the covers and pulled them over her head.
Rafael answered calmly. “Barely. It’s my day off. What d’you need?”
“The maintenance guy called. He’s coming at ten to fix the dishwasher.”
“Sounds good.”
She waited under the covers, her heart skittering in fear. Had Rafael locked his bedroom door last night? If Ernesto opened it, she was screwed. For a terrifying moment, she worried he might extend the conversation further. When nothing happened, she let out her breath in a long, shaky exhale.
Rafael lifted the blanket and grinned at her. “All clear. You can come out.”
She made no attempt to move. “You think this is funny? What if he’d come in here?”
“Then we’d have a lot of explaining to do.” He pushed back the covers and lay down next to her, so close their bodies were almost touching. “Ernesto wouldn’t believe we’d be lying here, half-naked, doing absolutely nothing.”
The heat from his body acted like a drug, luring her in. She wanted to close the distance between them, pepper his skin with kisses, and make him groan with pleasure. A throbbing ache built up inside her.
To hell with it.
One time couldn’t hurt, could it?
She rested her hand on his bare chest. “What if we weren’t doing nothing? What then?”
“Then we’d be in deep trouble.”
She inched closer and grazed her fingers against his pajama bottoms. Rock hard. Just as she suspected.
He closed his hand around hers. “This is a terrible idea.”
“I know,” she whispered. “But like you said, we’re lying here, half-naked, in your bed. It seems a shame to waste this opportunity.”
He drew his thumb against the soft lace of her bra, rubbing her nipple until it hardened into a tight little bud. “You have to be very, very quiet.”
She gasped at his touch. “I…I can be quiet.”
“Really?” He lowered his head, his tongue teasing her nipple through the thin material. “Because I remember you being very loud in bed.”
She threaded her fingers through his hair, her body ablaze with longing. “You…liked it when I was loud.”
“I loved it,” he murmured. As he continued sucking on her nipples, he smoothed his hand down her side, along the curve of her hips, slowly making his way between her thighs. “But you moaned so loud I worried they’d kick us out of your suite.”
She bit her lip, hard, when his fingers delved beneath her panties and teased her with slow, deliberate circles. “I…couldn’t help it. You made me feel so good.”
“Is that what you want now?”
“Yessss.” Her words dissolved as he continued those circles, until her nerve endings were on fire. Even after five years apart, he knew exactly where to touch her.
As he pushed her onto her back and spread her legs, she complied willingly, putting herself at his mercy. The pressure from his fingers, combined with the brush of his lips against her breasts, made the pleasure indescribable. She was helpless, reduced to putty, so close she could hardly stand it.
“Please don’t stop,” she whispered. “Please.” She grabbed one of the throw pillows and covered her face, moaning into it as the orgasm rocked through her.
For a moment, she lay still, her breath coming in ragged gasps. But instead of feeling spent and satisfied, she wanted more.
Rafael pulled the pillow away and brushed sweaty wisps of hair from her forehead. “You look so cute when you’re flushed like that.”
She didn’t even care he was teasing her. When he leaned down to kiss her, she pulled him closer, tangling her tongue with his, wanting to taste and devour and hold nothing back. He unhooked her bra and tossed it aside, then pressed his bare chest against hers. She ran her hands along his broad, muscular back, glorying in the feel of him. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this kind of ravenous, wanton desire.
He murmured her name as his lips trailed along the curve of her throat, her shoulders, her collarbones, lighting her skin on fire. When he ground against her, she tugged on his pajama bottoms, desperately wanting to remove them. She didn’t care about rules or propriety. She wanted him inside her, right the fuck now.
But he pulled away and rolled over onto his back.
If this was his attempt to behave like a gentleman, she wasn’t buying it. She placed a soft kiss on his shoulder. “You don’t have to stop. I really want this.”
He let out his breath. “I do, too.”
“Then what’s the issue? I promise I’ll be quiet.” Even if she’d already had one orgasm, she was greedy as hell. Besides, he hadn’t gotten his turn. She wanted to feel him shudder as he came inside of her.
“The box of condoms is in the other bathroom.”
She made no attempt to hide her disappointment. “Seriously? Don’t you have any tucked in your nightstand? For impulsive hookups?”
“I’m trying not to be that guy anymore. It’s…been a while. I don’t suppose you have one in your purse?”
“No. I haven’t had sex in three months.”
“I thought you and Ben broke up two months ago.”
“Exactly.” That, in itself, was proof of her less-than-stellar sex life with Ben. She let out a huff of frustration. “Now what?”
He rolled over until he was facing her. Running his hand along her arm, he gave her a devilish grin. “Now we just have to get creative. Have you ever played the Quiet Game?”
“The Quiet Game?”
“You know—when you’re a kid and your mom can’t take another minute of all the noise and chaos, so she tells you and your siblings to play the Quiet Game? You have to keep your mouth shut. First one to speak loses.”
Her pulse sped up. “What are you suggesting?”
“We take turns trying to make each other break the silence. Winner gets to choose their prize.”
Damn, that sounded enticing. “What does ‘breaking the silence’ entail? Does moaning count?”
“Not if you do it quietly, since we don’t want my cousins to get an earful. Luckily, we have more than enough throw pillows on hand. But begging for mercy? That totally counts.”
So he was playing it that way, was he?
Game on.