Roxy laid on the bed, praying to go to sleep, but God must have had bigger fish to satisfy. Her eyes wouldn’t close. Her body wouldn’t lie still. She wanted to blame being overtired, but she had a feeling it was being so close to that man across the condo and not being able to touch.
Even her body knew it was unnatural to deny herself a piece of that. But she wasn’t denying herself. Was she?
A part of her wondered if he was interested. She thought he was. He seemed all kinds of interested in the closet today. The way his body covered hers? Okay, maybe she’d imagined it.
Then there was the kissing. But she wasn’t in grade school. She was an adult. Kissing wasn’t a promise. It was just kissing.
Overanalyzing her love life or lack thereof wouldn’t help her sleep. She switched to counting sheep. Big fluffy balls of fleece. Jumping. One over the fence. Two over a bale of hay. Three over Rafe laying on the ground giving Roxy those come-hither eyes.
Maybe he was naked. Rafe, not the sheep. Were sheep already naked if all they had was wool on their bodies? How many sheep did you see modelling the latest barnyard trends? Although there was this documentary where the sheep were shaved down to their skin. That was probably naked in the sheep world.
She sat on the edge of the bed. This was so not working. She should’ve asked for that shot of whiskey when she’d had a chance. Rafe was probably sound asleep. She could try and find something to help her get through the night on her own.
The only light in the living room came from the view of the strip outside the window. Red, pink and blue lights washed onto the couch. The view was amazing. This was her city. Lights flashing. People splurging. She pressed her forehead against the window as the glowing city winked back at her.
“Shouldn’t you be asleep?”
Her head bounced on the glass as her body jumped. Rubbing her forehead, she turned around. “Sorry. I was having trouble sleeping, so I thought I’d come out here and grab a drink.” She tipped her head toward the glitz of the strip. “I got sidetracked.”
Speaking of sidetracked. Rafe stood in front of her in a pair of sweatpants and nothing else. His bare chest was hard pecs and ridges that begged to be touched. “It’s calming.”
Calming? Her body was the furthest from calm. “What is?”
“The lights.” Rafe edged closer to Roxy at the window, staring out over the twinkle of lights. “Being so high up and watching people go about their business. Go on with their lives.”
“It makes me feel small.”
“Yes. But there’s something soothing about knowing there’s so much world out there and we can only control our piece.”
She didn’t pull away as his bare shoulder grazed hers. “Do you have control over your piece?”
“I try.” His eyes were sad as he looked out at the city. “Most of the time I do. But what happened to Donnie Dunne shows I don’t have the control I need.”
“You can’t control everything, all the time.” She slid her hand in his as her heart broke. He truly believed he had to manage his entire empire. Alone.
He shook his head. “It’s my job. It helps that I only have to control my piece of the world.”
She slanted her body toward him and rested his hand along her hip. “What happens if you lose control?” Her hand travelled up his chest and slid down his other arm.
“People get hurt.”
“What happens if you have help?” She angled her body a little more toward his.
His hands both found their way to her hips, his fingers sliding beneath her shirt. He pulled her close, and her body hummed with every stroke of his thumbs on bare skin. She pressed her thighs together, trying to control the need pulsing through her body.
He dipped his head. His lips moved to her neck. His breath blazing a trail behind her ear. “I’ve never tried it.”
“You should try.” The air left her lungs in breathy bursts. Her arms wrapped around him, hands running the length of his strong back.
“Maybe we should change the subject.”
“What do you want—” Her eyes closed. Her body throbbed. “—to talk about?”
His lips hovered above hers. “Let’s not talk.”
She could feel his breath and the slightest brush of his lips on hers. All-consuming want swirled in her body as he hovered. No talking. Talking was overrated. Kissing. Her lips tingled. She needed kissing.
She needed him.
His mouth found hers, his tongue slowly licking the edge of her lip. Her body flamed, on the edge of combustion. She could practically feel the orgasm tug at her core.
He was desire. He was want. He was everything she needed him to be and everything she’d never had before.
He rested his hands on her ass.
“Wrap your legs around me.” The whispered order held a tad of desperation.
He rested his hands under her ass and lifted her legs up to circle his waist. Her body rubbed against his in all the deliciously perfect places. He pulled her close and moved toward his bedroom, pausing right outside the doorway.
“Are you sure about this?” That desperation hollowed out his tone.
She understood. “Yes.”
He carried her into the bedroom and shut the door.