Chapter 49 Chapter fourty Nine
Hope froze as awareness and horror crept over her. It wasn’t dawn, and she was naked in Rafe Sterling’s bed. Thank God he wasn’t in the room with her.
She let out a long sigh. What in the name of everything sacred had she been thinking? The man and his sexiness had made her forget she had a brain. She was stupid, crazy and attracted to him. He was right about the pheromones, but she couldn’t allow it to happen again.
She jumped from the bed and hurried to the bathroom. Every muscle burned, and her pussy ached. She had to be a mess.
She stood near a mirror and contorted herself so she could look at her ass in the mirror. There wasn’t a mark on her body. How was that even possible? There was no doubt she’d been used last night, spanked, tied up, fucked hard. He’d made her beg to come, ask for punishment. What was worse was that she’d wanted to.
They’d had sex, several times. Once in the middle of the night, even. She’d half woken, shivering from the air-conditioning. Seeking warmth, she’d scooted across the bed toward him. He’d captured her, and his dick had been hard.
Although she wasn’t sure how he’d managed it while still mostly asleep, he’d grabbed a condom, put it on, then taken her from behind, holding her waist tight while he slid in and out of her. After she’d had a delicious orgasm, she’d drifted off, satiated.
She pulled her hair on top of her head before remembering that her clip had hit the floor in his bedroom.
Time to get out of there. She’d been hired to find him a wife. The sooner she did that, the better for her emotional state—before she fell for him.
The scent of coffee wafted through the air, encouraging her to get the day started and face Rafe with her decision to end this now.
Unable to brazen her way through the morning after, she hurried into his closet to find a robe. The arms were far too long, and she had to roll up the sleeves so they didn’t cover her hands. She wrapped the belt around her waist twice before tying a knot so secure it was at least as good as the ones he’d used on her.
Their scene replaying in her mind, she hurried to the bedroom to drop to her hands and knees to search beneath the bed for her hair clip.
“I see you’re up.”
She bumped her head on the bedrail before looking over her shoulder to see him standing in the doorway, two cups of coffee in hand. Damn him.
Dressed in tailored slacks, polished shoes, and a crisp shirt, he took her breath. Even though he had no tie on, his cufflinks were in place. He might have been casual, but his look still spoke of power.
“Looking for something?”
She pushed off the floor and sat back on her calves. “My hair clip.”
“On the nightstand. I found it last night.”
If she hadn’t been so intent on escape, she might have found it.
“Thank you.” She hurried to her feet; then she grabbed the clip and secured the metal in place, hoping the act might stabilize her ping-ponging emotional state.
“I brought you some coffee.”
It shouldn’t have surprised her, but Rafe waited for her to come to him. Once she was a few feet from him, she inhaled his masculine scent, unmistakable resolve combined with the spice from his shower.
“You were everything I could imagine.”
There was nothing she could say in response. The evening had revealed parts of herself that she’d been unaware of.
“Thank you for the coffee.” She accepted the cup and took a drink, not because she wanted it but because she was desperate to escape the scrutiny. The brew was strong and rich, inviting her to linger, something she dared not do. “I’ll get dressed and call for a ride.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I’ll drive you home and take you to work.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
His eyes turned dark, the cold twilight after the sun had set. “I will see to you, Hope.”
“Mr.—”
“Don’t.” Rafe held up a hand. “Don’t pretend that it didn’t happen, that you’re unaffected, that you didn’t scream my name, beg, then ask for more.”
Coffee nearly spilled over the rim before she steadied her hand. “It happened. I liked it, and so did you.”
“You’re a client.” She wondered which one of them she was trying to convince.
“And don’t you damn well dare pretend it doesn’t matter.” He closed the distance between them. With aching tenderness, he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “We’re two consenting adults who had an amazing scene. Admit it.”
She exhaled. “It doesn’t change anything.”
“Your clothes are downstairs,” he told her. “When would you like to leave?”
Her victory had been too easy to trust it. “Ten minutes?” That was long enough for her to finish the coffee, clean up, and dress.
He nodded. He picked up his coffee cup, pivoted, and headed toward the doorway. Damn it, she didn’t want him to go.
As if sensing her indecision, he stopped, then turned back to her.
With three steps, he was in front of her. He placed his cup on the nightstand. She remained rooted where she was, and she slumped in relief when he cradled her shoulders.
She was up on her toes again, and he claimed her mouth with ruthless intent, a potent reminder of what she’d offered last night and a glimpse of what part of her hoped he still might demand in future.
When Rafe released her, she was shaken, her mouth bruised from his passion.
With that, he left. If she’d thought she could steady her emotions, she’d been wrong. She sank onto the edge of the bed and wrapped her arms around her knees to recover from the storm that was Rafe. It wasn’t until minutes later that she was steady enough to join him downstairs.