Something was just…different about Rafe. He was true to his word, melting chocolate and taste testing and helping Kaitlyn mix more batches of dough. He not only took the dog news in stride; he seemed to really be happy about it. After their couch make-out session the other night, Kaitlyn couldn’t help wondering what conclusion he’d come to within the past few days about them.
After they’d just pulled four full baking sheets out of the oven, Rafe glanced at the recipe she’d been using. “What’s this?” he asked, his arm grazing hers. The graze felt intentional, but Kaitlyn found him concentrating intently on the handwritten recipe before him on the countertop.
“It’s another chocolate cookie recipe of my grandfather’s—not the snowcap one,” she said. “I thought I’d use similar proportions of the main ingredients.”
“No, I mean…why the sideways handwriting?” As Rafe pointed out her grandfather’s faded script, written in pencil in the margin, his arm touched hers again.
Kaitlyn picked up the yellowed bit of paper. “Oh, he used to do that—write ideas for new recipes on any scrap of paper he had lying around.” She smiled fondly at the memory of her grandfather sitting down at a table in the Bean, pencil in hand. “He used to listen to radio cooking shows while he worked, and he was always jotting down recipes.”
“You looked all through the recipes your mom gave you, right?”
“Yes. Definitely,” she said. “Several times.”
“But did you read all the sideways notes?”
Kaitlyn gave him a You’ve got to be kidding me look. “There are hundreds of recipes in that box.”
He shrugged. “Just an idea.” For a heartbeat, his gaze flicked up at her, a move that caused her every muscle to freeze in place. Then he reached over and carefully swiped his thumb next to her lips. His eyes filled with heat, and she knew him too well to not understand the look. Her heart dropped, the plunge as terrifying as the sudden downward spiral of a roller-coaster ride.
“Stop that,” she said, managing to step back, her voice sounding snagged up in her throat.
“Stop what?” he asked innocently.
“Are you flirting with me?” she said. “Because this is very serious business. I’m working. And I’m never going to finish these cookies if we—”
“That’s not flirting,” he said, shaking his head vehemently.
“Yes it is. All that arm grazing and chocolate tasting and…and I don’t like the way you’re looking…at my lips.”
“Maybe I’m looking at your lips because you still have a speck of chocolate right there.” He pointed with his index finger and she quickly rubbed at it with her hand.
“Did I get it?” she asked.
He stepped closer and examined the spot closely. “I’m not sure. Let me check.” Then he bent his head and kissed her—a light, quick kiss—before stepping back. Examining her closely, he said, “No, it’s definitely still there.” Then he dipped his head again. This time he cupped a hand softly around her neck, threading his fingers through her hair and bringing their lips together slowly and deliberately in a way that felt exactly right. He tugged her against him, tasting her, kissing her thoroughly, stealing her breath away, making her dizzy and trembling. She stood on tiptoe, straining to kiss him, resting a hand on his chest, where his heart beat steadily and strongly under her fingertips.
Slowly, he moved his mouth near her ear and whispered, “Now that’s flirting.”
* * *
Kisses led to more kisses. Kaitlyn’s stomach seemed to fill with a liquid warmth that diffused all through her limbs, melting her knees, causing her entire world to tilt and sway. Her hands brushed against the masculine coating of hair on his forearms, the taut muscle, the surprising softness of his skin.
He made a little noise of pleasure in his throat as he ran his hands down her back and pulled her close. She felt safe and dangerous all at once, wanting to be cautious but unable to resist the inescapable pull he had on her heart.
He lifted her up and set her on the island, pushing measuring cups and spatulas and bowls aside. Then he stood in front of her, between her knees, resting his hands on the counter on either side of her. His breathing was a bit ragged, and he took a few slow, deep inhalations, as if he was trying to get his rate back to normal. The smell of cookies baking filled up the warm kitchen. “I don’t want to stop, Katie, but I need to tell you a few things.”
“Good things or bad things?” she asked, trying hard to concentrate. She rubbed her fingers over her kiss-swollen lips. How could he want to talk when she was still drunk on those kisses?
“I’ll let you decide. First of all, I lied,” he said.
“About what?” Her heart seemed to stop beating and she held her breath, waiting for him to continue. Lied? That sounded…ominous.
He exhaled deeply. “The night of the wedding.”
“Oh.” All her muscles tensed, and she feared the worst about why he was bringing this up now, but the expression in his eyes was soft and gentle, reminding her of the way he’d looked at her before he’d kissed her the other night on the couch or in the middle of the tree lot before their tree fell.
Somehow, that took away her fear. Clearly, he needed to tell her something. “Go on,” she said.
“I’m a pretty big guy,” he said, rubbing his neck nervously. “It takes a lot more booze than what I had to make me forget things.”
“Forget…things?” Images from that night flashed through her mind like quick scenes from a movie trailer. Running through the drenching rain. Rafe fumbling with the key, and the two of them ending up breathless and panting against the door of his cabin as he kissed her neck, his warm, masculine body pressing up against her. The sudden plunge into darkness as the electricity failed. His lips finding hers in the velvet darkness, her every sense on high alert, every touch twice as intense in the pitch blackness.
“The thing is, I remember everything.” He paused, letting that settle. At that moment, she couldn’t have looked away if the commissioner of the recipe contest herself had showed up at the door. “I remember the dress you wore. It was blue like your eyes. And I remember thinking I’d never seen such a pure blue. Like the sky above the lake on a hot July day. And I remember how I’d been wanting to kiss you for weeks. No, make that months. And how you felt in my arms when we danced, and how much I wanted you but how I couldn’t say anything. I could only show you. And once I had you in my arms, I couldn’t let you go.”
Her mouth dropped open. How she felt in his arms? Wanted her for months? Tears swelled behind her eyes. She was vaguely aware that he’d taken up her hands.
“I’m trying to tell you that I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop thinking about us. I’ve felt that way for a long time. I just…I just didn’t let myself go there, if that makes any sense. And what you said the other night—about my job being dangerous—this feels more dangerous. You feel more dangerous to me.”
“What about the woman with the selfies?” she asked. “Jade or Jewel or whatever her name was.”
“I told you about her to push you away.” Rafe’s gaze didn’t falter, nor did his firm but gentle hold on her hands. “I haven’t been with anyone since the wedding. I don’t want to be with anyone else. I want you.”
Tears blurred the kitchen surrounding them, the bright island lights. “I want you too, Rafe.” She’d always wanted him. No matter how often she’d tried to talk herself out of it. She always would.
“I’m not sure I can be who you need me to be.” The honesty in his eyes brought more tears to her own. “But I want to try. You make me want to try, Katie.”
Her heart was full, yet she had no words. She touched his cheek with her palm. Felt the coarseness of his beard stubble, and the warmth. The roughness and the smoothness. In that moment, she swore she would take him, every part of him, all the joy and pain and happiness all rolled together into one complicated man.
A man she loved.
Her eyes were stinging, and her throat was clogged with emotion, and suddenly she recalled the woman she used to be, what seemed like a long time ago. Back then, she hadn’t understood anything but her attraction to him—this tall, dark, incessantly charming guy who disarmed her at every turn and made her heart flutter and her knees go weak with just a look.
Or maybe she had sensed more than she knew. Maybe she’d always known there was more beneath the surface.
She’d grown up so much since then. And so had he. This—right now—was the first time they’d both made a step together based on honesty, not just attraction. And it overwhelmed her in every way.
He stood in front of her, his hands on either side of her legs, very near. One side of his mouth quirked up. “Scary, huh?”
She nodded slowly. Swallowed hard past a sudden lump in her throat. “But real.”
“I feel like I should crack a joke.”
“I don’t want a joke right now.” She rested her hands on his shoulders. “All I want is you.”
* * *
Kaitlyn recalled the first time they’d made love, when they’d come together impulsively, frenetically, in a crazed rush of heat. This time their eyes were wide open. With the bright kitchen lights above them, it couldn’t have been otherwise.
He stepped closer and took her face in his hands. She felt the warmth of his fingers, the mild scrape of his callouses against her skin. “I want to make love with you,” he said. “I want to start a new chapter in our lives.”
She reached up and took his hands. “Take me to bed now, Rafe,” she whispered.
He did just that, picking her up and carrying her into his bedroom and setting her down on his bed. Then he got up, walked over to his dresser, and took something out of a drawer.
“The night of the wedding, you forgot these.” He held up a tiny scrap of lace with a blue bow. Her undies. She grabbed for them, but he held them out of reach. “See the blue bow? I was thinking you wore these because they matched your dress. The dress with the high front and the cut-out circles in the back. You have a really sexy back.”
A hot wave of heat rolled through her. “Rafe, give me those back now, please.”
“Hush,” he said, continuing to hold them out of reach. “When I took these off of you, my hands were shaking. Not because I was drunk. Or so excited to finally touch you that I could barely think, which was true too, but mostly because I wanted you so badly, even though I couldn’t admit that to myself. When the lights finally came on, your face was flushed and your eyes were lit up and you—you just had this look that I will remember forever.”
He lowered the undies and sat next to her on the bed. “Such a hardworking, practical woman, who gets up at four thirty every morning to open her grandpa’s café. Yet she wears the most filmy, lacy underwear with a tiny satin bow. That is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
The honesty of his words touched her deeply. She swallowed hard and swiped again for the undies. But this time he brought them to his face and sniffed them.
“Rafe, stop!” Her whole body was flushing at his antics.
“They smelled like your perfume and like your taste. And I want to taste you again, Kaitlyn. This time with the lights on.”
His words were honest. Heartfelt and erotic and outrageous. It was a very Rafe thing to do—but it was so much more.
“Oh, heck,” she said, swiping tears and laughing at the same time. “Keep them if you like them so much. I have lots more.”
Slowly, he lay down next to her, side by side, resting his hand on her hip. She met his gaze honestly and unafraid. Sucked in a breath. Felt the heat from his hand seep right through her skin. How many times had she imagined this—this moment between them when they were staring straight at each other and knowing exactly where this was going to lead? For the first time ever, it felt as if neither of them was holding anything back.
With one quick, assured movement, he tugged her against him. All at once, she hit rock-hard muscle, soft flannel, and the masculine scrape of his cheek. The dark look in his eyes was one she was certain she’d seen in her dreams—an unabashed look of pure desire that curled her toes. Except this time, it was real. He was real.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked in a whisper. “Can I make love to you?”
“Yes,” she whispered, getting lost in the tender way he looked at her. Surely this man, who believed so firmly that he could not love, was unaware of the power of his feeling for his family, his friends, and—just maybe—for her too. Thoughts fled as his mouth met hers, their bodies flush, his big arms holding her tight against him. He kissed her insistently, deeply, and she kissed him back with everything she had.
“You feel so good,” he murmured near her ear. The low timbre of his voice and the soft feel of his breath against her skin made her shudder.
“You too,” she said, her arms curving around his neck, her fingers threading through the thick layers of shorn hair at his nape. And oh, how she loved the feel of him, the taut, flexing muscle, the coarse, dark silk of his hair, and the heady, familiar scent that was soap and winter air and Rafe.
Despite all they’d weathered in the past month, all the uncertainty and stress, everything about him was reassuring and strong, making hope and possibility burst from inside her.
Their tongues met, and his kisses became more urgent. A moan released low and deep from her throat, and he kissed it away.
“I want you to know I got checked and all’s well,” he said. “I just want you to know I would never jeopardize you or the baby. But if you want I can still use a condom.”
She nodded. “I’m good too. And it’s not necessary.”
She traced the thick line of his brows, unable to really believe what was happening between them. Then she reached up and pulled his head down, kissing him. And oh, he kissed perfectly, thoroughly, wonderfully, making her dizzy and weak with want.
Rafe untucked her shirt and ran his hand along her waist, rubbing his thumb gently over the skin of her back. She shrugged off her shirt and helped him remove his, thrilled to see his chiseled chest, firefighter muscles rippling all over.
He put his hands on her waist—and looked down. Ran his fingers lightly over the barely there fullness of her lower abdomen and held them there. “You can hardly tell what’s going on in there,” he whispered.
She put her hand over his. He tilted up her face with his hand and covered her mouth with his, and then she was lost, swept away by him in every way.
Somehow her bra hit the floor, and he was touching her breasts, feeling the weight of them in his hands, kneading their now-exquisitely sensitive tips. Then he dropped his head and took a nipple in his mouth, tugging and using his tongue in ways that sent waves of pleasure through her. Her hands clutched the smooth, taut muscles of his back, her hands fluttering over him as sensation rolled over her in waves.
She unzipped his fly, freed his length, and wrapped her hand around him. This time he moaned, deep and long, a sound of pure pleasure. He shrugged off his pants and boxers and climbed over her, kissing her deeply while his finger played along the outline of her undies. He placed kisses on her neck, tracing a path to her earlobe, which he pretend-bit. Unrelenting in his explorations, he dipped into her wetness, using his clever fingers, whispering in her ear as she shuddered uncontrollably, each stroke driving her closer to the edge.
He whispered more to her, telling her how beautiful she was, how he loved the changes in her body. She loved the feel of him, the hard-flexing muscle, the long, beautiful length of him.
She was stroking him, learning what he liked, while he circled her swollen flesh. All her muscles pulsed and tightened. Her legs fell open, and all she could feel was the voluminous building of a wave about to shatter as she surrendered to his touch.
“Let go and come,” he whispered. “Just come.”
“No,” she said, struggling to resist, her breaths coming rapidly. She tugged on him, indicating that she wanted him inside of her.
He understood what she wanted, positioning himself above her and looking into her eyes, saying nothing with his mouth but everything with his eyes as he entered her slowly and deliberately, filling her with his length. She cried out as he pushed to the hilt, their bodies fully joined, her intimate muscles clenching him tightly.
“Everything okay?” he asked. “Too much?”
“Wonderful,” she said, wrapping her legs around him tightly as they began a rhythm, every stroke propelling her to a place where there was only Rafe, his body moving over her and in her, his lean muscle, his beautiful, expressive eyes so full of…joy. She could only call it that. It was no more and no less.
They came together, each crying out, in a burst of light and heat and happiness.
Her hands curled around the muscles of Rafe’s arms as he finally lay still, panting, his elbows propped on the bed on the sides of her head. She felt them tense and flex as he held himself above her.
He smoothed back her hair, kissed her forehead. “I think I like helping you in the kitchen,” he said, a wicked smile lighting his face. “You’re more delicious than a chocolate snow cookie,” he said.
“Snowcap cookie,” she managed, feeling weak and shaky, and wonderful and bowled over and—she’d never say it out loud, but—happy. So, so happy.
“That too,” he said with a laugh, gathering her to him.
* * *
Hours later, Kaitlyn stirred from a light sleep. They’d made love several times throughout the night, so it wasn’t completely unexpected to find Rafe awake next to her.
“You’re not staring at me again, are you?” She covered her eyes with her arm. “That has to stop.”
“I can’t help it,” he said, kissing her on the forehead. “I love having you in my bed.”
She wrapped her arms around him and snuggled close. “Well, I like being in your bed.”
He placed his hand lightly on her hip, rubbing his thumb in slow circles.
“What is it?” she asked. “What are you thinking?”
He dove under the covers, half uncovering them, and placed his hands on her abdomen. “Can I—can I do this?” he asked, poking his head up.
“Do what?” she asked, imagining any number of things.
“Say…hi.”
“Say hi?” What in the world…
“To the baby.”
She bit her lip as tenderness enveloped her. “Of course you can,” she said, her voice wavering. She touched the top of his head and rested her hand on his shoulders as he traced the contours of her abdomen.
“Hi, baby,” he whispered, then kissed her belly. Words caught in her throat, tears welled up, and she could not speak.
He looked up at her then, and something passed between them. Something intimate and soul-shattering that caused her entire body to tremble. As he came to lie next to her, he gave her a look of such tenderness, such gentleness, that she was completely overcome. She reached up a shaky hand to smooth down his hair, but he intercepted her by turning his head and kissing her palm. He kissed her knuckles one by one, never taking his eyes off her. Then he drew her in and kissed her on the mouth deeply and slowly. Her body melted against his as she succumbed to his touch, the magnificent feel of his chest against hers, the tender, reverent way he caressed her.
She believed him. She trusted him. She loved him.
Much later, Kaitlyn finally lay, content, happy, and sated, enveloped in Rafe’s warmth, his body curved around hers, their legs tangled under the down comforter. She didn’t want to sleep. Instead she wanted to stay awake and savor the sensation of being wrapped up in him for as long as possible. But despite her wishes, she fell asleep anyway. Sometime later, she heard him stir and sit up, pushing off from the bed.
“What are you doing?” she asked. The clock said 4:15. It was almost time to begin her day.
“I’m going to let the puppy out.” He kissed her shoulder, then turned to leave the bed. Even half-awake, she fought the desire to reel him back in, keep him in bed with her.
“It’s almost time to get up for work,” he whispered. “Sleep a little extra.”
He kissed her forehead and covered her with the comforter. She was vaguely aware of him slipping on his shirt and pants and padding down the hall. Then she heard the sink water running. It dawned on her that he was washing the dishes.
That realization struck her straight in the heart. She smiled in an uncontrollable way. Sleepy, satisfied, and warm, she rolled over and for once let someone else take care of things.