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Rafe had had Elizabeth and Jude over for dinner shortly after they'd announced their engagement last year, and Otto showed up at his door at random intervals, so it wasn't like he never hosted guests.
The last time he'd had someone unrelated seated across from him, though?
He had no idea.
His dining table was set in a loosely defined area between the regular height ceiling kitchen and the vaulted living room. The empty chamber soared two storeys above the glossy wooden surface, yet Natalie filled it with effortless effervescence. Thankfully, she hadn't mentioned his mother again while they’d prepared the meal, instead chattering on about inconsequential subjects. He should have been bored and irritated by her stories about people he didn't know and on topics in which he had no interest. But she didn't seem to require his input and he found himself relaxing under the constant, undemanding flow.
They finished their meals and he was about to suggest coffee when his cell phone rang. Since he had it connected to a home assistant screen propped on the kitchen counter, Natalie could see as well as he could that Otto was requesting a video call.
“Go ahead and take that.” She rose from her seat and reached for his plate. “I'll start cleaning up.”
He had no problem ignoring his brother when it suited. Natalie, on the other hand, rushed to her sister’s aid even when it disrupted her entire life. What would she think if she knew he treated his brother so cavalierly? He connected the call.
“Hey, there.” Otto beamed his characteristic smile from the small screen. “Did I interrupt anything?” Before Rafe could reply, he barked a boisterous laugh and answered his own question. “Of course not. It's a weeknight. You're home alone like a good boy.”
His jaw locked. Irritation, humiliation, and desperation warred to keep him from speaking.
A soft cheek brushed his bicep as Natalie leaned so she could be seen on camera. He stared down at her. She smiled, though the pinched corners of her eyes belied her cheerful expression. “He might be home, but he's not alone.”
She sounded...angry? Why would she be angry? He added confused to the list of emotions he was trying to process.
“Oh. Oh!” Otto's shock was both insulting and rewarding. “I'm sorry. I am interrupting, I guess.”
Rafe finally found his voice. “You're not. We just finished dinner.” He'd automatically wrapped his arm around Natalie's waist when she'd tucked herself against his side. Realizing that would give Otto the wrong impression, he hastily released her.
“I'm Otto, Rafe's brother.” He waggled his fingers at the screen. “And you are...”
“Natalie Minton. Your mother's biographer.” For the first time, she sounded like the fusty librarian he'd hoped she'd be. He pressed his lips together to prevent a grin. “We've met, by the way.”
Since the start of the call, Otto's expression had cycled from teasing to speculative to surprised to astonished. “We have? I'm sure I would remember that.”
“In Mexico.” Natalie didn't appear impressed by the implied flattery. “You were needlessly heroic when I was knocked into a pool.”
“That was you? And what do you mean, needlessly heroic?” Otto's eyebrows shot up. “I was trying to help.”
Rafe couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his brother discombobulated. He was too used to being right all the time, to being deferred to and respected without having to exert himself. Having a pint-sized brunette upbraid him would be a good experience.
“I'm a good swimmer. Maybe not as good as Rafe”—here she shot him a glance and pink tinged her cheeks—“but I certainly didn't need to be rescued.”
“Well.” Otto swallowed. “I apologize then.”
“Thank you.” Natalie's nod was regal. A laughing bubble of appreciation welled in Rafe's chest. Not just at her easy handling of Otto's officiousness, but at her confidence and composure in what could have been an awkward scene.
“Did you need something?” As much as he was enjoying the conversation, he would rather have Natalie to himself. A thought that should have disturbed him but didn't. His arm muscles still echoed with the sensation of her soft hips and curvy warmth, like the phantom pain of a missing limb.
“No, not really. I was just checking in.”
“I'm fine.”
“Okay then. I'll let you go.” Otto looked like he wanted to say more, but in a rare show of forbearance simply disconnected with a swift goodbye.
Natalie twisted so she was between him and the counter and showered him with a brilliant smile. “Maybe I shouldn't have tweaked him about his so-called rescue. But I didn't like him assuming you were all alone. What business is it of his?”
It was ingrained habit to defend his brother, whether he needed it or not. “On any other night, he would have been right. This is the first time I've had anyone over for dinner in a long time.”
“Then I am honoured you asked me.” She patted his chest, rose up on tiptoe, and brushed a soft kiss on his lips.
He froze, a lightning bolt of desire fusing him to the floor.
She drew away, her eyes searching his, wide with wonder.
Then she leaned up again and pressed her mouth to his.
––––––––
AGAIN. KISS HIM AGAIN.
Natalie obeyed her soul’s demand. She sipped from Rafe's lips like a connoisseur with a fine wine. He stood stock still, and she would have retreated if his mouth hadn't clung to hers when she pulled a hair's breadth away, his head dipping to keep their connection.
Her hands slid from his chest to the back of his neck, bringing their bodies closer. Standing on tiptoe, she thanked yoga for the strength in her ankles. She'd never be able to reach his mouth otherwise.
His dark chocolate, deliciously bitter mouth.
Hesitant pressure on her hips presaged the warmth of his palms. She licked the seam of his lips in wordless encouragement, purring low in her throat. This time she'd make sure he knew she approved of his touch, craved it. If he pulled away as he had before dinner when he had held her face or when his arm had snaked around her waist for an instant while they'd talked to Otto, she might scream.
His grip on her hips tightened and suddenly she was sitting on the counter.
“Is that better?” He whispered the words against her mouth, then trailed a heated path to the skin behind her ear.
In answer, she wrapped her legs around his waist, locking them at the small of his back and tugging him tight to her centre. The hard bulge of his erection pressed her core and she gasped, letting her head fall back. “Much better.”
Dizzy from the sensations sparked by his lips and teeth on her neck, she dug her fingers into his shoulders and simply held on. He made his way from one collarbone to the other, nuzzling the fabric of her blouse out of his way, his crisp, silky hair caressing the underside of her chin. His scent filled her nostrils, woodsy and clean and fresh. Heat coiled low in her belly and she clenched her thighs on his hips, desperate to get closer.
His mouth found hers again as he leaned over, pressing her back to the solid surface. The quartz counter was cool under her, Rafe's chest hot and firm above. Her breasts swelled and tingled, squashed delightfully by his weight. His tongue demanded entrance and she opened willingly. If it was possible to get drunk by kissing someone, she never wanted to be sober.
The thought dashed cold water on her blazing libido.
Drunk. Sober. Shyla.
Shyla had been the catalyst that imploded her marriage to Ricky, and Natalie had learned her lesson. Until her sister's situation was resolved, she needed to stay away from relationships.
Reluctantly she cupped his jaw, the bristles of his whiskers soft yet prickly under her palms. At the pressure of her hands, he immediately broke the kiss. She realized her eyes were closed and opened them, the pendant light dangling from the ceiling creating a halo around his head. His gaze was dark and intense, half-hidden behind heavy lids.
She couldn't keep herself from touching him. But she couldn't keep kissing him, either. She'd never felt this combustible before, as if his mere presence set her alight. It frightened and delighted her.
It made her yearn.
––––––––
RAFE'S HEART THUNDERED in his chest and he struggled to control his breathing. Natalie's hair spread out on the shiny white and grey counter, a sable fan around her flushed face. Her fingers trembled and he turned his head to brush his lips against her palm.
The refrigerator motor kicked in, the hum loud in the silence fizzing between them. Though she'd indicated a halt to the proceedings by her pressure on his jaw, she had given no other hint she wanted him to move. Instead, her hands swept down his neck, over his shoulders to his biceps and back again, and her heels remained tucked into the hollows of his knees.
He braced his forearms on the counter, holding himself above her, and toyed with the strands of her hair framing her head. “Well.” It was the best his lust-fogged brain could come up with.
Her eyelids flickered and a small grin tugged the corners of her rose-pink mouth. “Well, indeed.” Her thumb traced his lower lip and his tongue darted out to taste it. She sucked in a breath. “I don't do this with everyone I work for.”
He froze. Good god. He'd forgotten. He shoved off the counter and stepped backward so fast he almost stumbled. “I am so sorry.”
She winced. “Now it's my turn to apologize. That's not what I meant. I'm not accusing you of anything.” She wriggled to a sitting position and smoothed the fabric of her blouse. “I was trying to explain my actions. I'm the one who kissed you, remember?”
She appeared sincere, but that was no comfort. “I should know better.”
“We're both intelligent adults.” Her exasperated tone suggested she wasn't certain whether to include him in that description or not. “Surely we can handle a little thing like a kiss without calling in the cavalry.”
Little thing like a kiss. It hadn't been a little thing to him. Desire had engulfed him like wildfire, fierce, demanding, possessive. But if she considered it nothing more than flirtation, he would never push the issue. “Right. Of course.” He circled around her, taking a wide path between the island and the wall of cabinets, and opened the dishwasher, half-blind with arousal, shame, and disappointment.
A soft thump signalled she'd slid off the counter. “Rafe. Look at me.”
Reluctantly, he raised his gaze from the dirty silverware in his hand. She regarded him with her head tilted to one side. “I liked kissing you. Really liked it. But we don't know each other that well, and we're working on a project that neither of us wants to screw up.”
She was right. Though he felt he knew her in his soul, she didn't know him. She didn't know he was keeping secrets from her, secrets that affected her ability to do her job properly. If he continued to hide his mother's corrupt practices, and she wrote the book, and then someone else discovered what had happened, she would look like a fool.
He didn't want Natalie to look like a fool.
He couldn't reveal his mother wasn't the paragon everyone believed her to be.
“I understand. There can't be anything between us.” It had been a mistake to give in and kiss her. And his mistakes were never small or insignificant. His mistakes meant people suffered.
Even died.