Giving her a chance to breathe. And give herself a good talking-to.
What the heck is wrong with you, kid? You know that flirting with him is counter-productive! Is it the reflections in the oil spills you find overly stimulating? Or the winch chains waving in the breeze?
Next time she tracked him down, she’d do so in daylight. With an audience. And she’d certainly make sure she kept physical distance between them as well. Whatever it took to keep the heat blooming between them at bay.
She couldn’t let herself fall for him again. Even a little bit. Because when she fell, she had a bad habit of becoming who she thought her partner wanted her to be. Surpressing her needs so that they might love her back. A survival skill learned living by the changeable whims of her dearest mother.
That was how things had gone down with The Chef. Even while he’d turned out to be a liar and a cheat, the break-up wasn’t entirely on him. If she’d stood up for herself sooner, if she’d laid claim to her life from the very beginning, things wouldn’t have ended as they had. In all likelihood they’d have ended before they’d even begun.
But the harder truth was, she’d probably been that way with Rafe the first time around too. The only time around, she reminded herself. They’d been so close, she’d not known quite where Rafe ended and she began.
Feet firmly back on the ground, she watched Rafe move about the space. Switching off machinery. Lights. Checking everything was safe. Secure. So self-assured, capable, resilient, sturdy. No wonder she’d been so smitten.
But now those qualities were no longer reasons to want him, but reasons to want her child to be half him.
When he looked over, and the darkness in his eyes made her blood go from normal to full sizzle in half a second, she took a step back.
“I should go,” they both said, at the exact same time.
Sable laughed, the sound a little strained. While Rafe simply looked at her. Into her.
Then he slowly strode her way.
She held her breath, waiting for his next words. Bracing herself. Readying to battle, if she needed to.
When he surprised her by saying, “I’m meant to be in Sydney right now.”
“Oh?”
He ran a hand up the back of his head, catching on the hair tie and yanking it loose, his curls falling around his face making him look a complete rogue. “There’s a refurbed Pontiac in my Surry Hills shop, owned by a Texan ex-pat who is road-trip-happy. Paid extra to make sure I signed off on the completion, in person. Yet here I am.”
Sable had no idea what to say.
Rafe, on the other hand, wasn’t done. “Later tonight, I’m meant to be on a flight to Dubai where I was to have first eyes on a Mustang GT Cobra Jet, which one of the royals found under a tarp in his father’s other palace.”
Lots to digest there, but Sable found herself stuck on the “Was? Meaning no longer. Because you’re here. You’re here because of me.”
He nodded. But he didn’t look disapproving. Or disappointed. Or stunned and confused as he had back at the fairground that morning.
He looked as if he could hear the whump-whump-whump of the blood pulsing through her. As if he too could taste the sensual tension in the air, above and beyond the tang of oil and steel. He looked as if it was taking every ounce of restraint to hold himself back too.
Then Rafe muttered, “To hell with it,” before he took three long strides, reached a hand around her waist and hauled her close.
Sable’s breath left her in a whoosh. Her thoughts following straight after. Until she was nothing but nerves and heat and a frantic pulse.
Then with a growl that sounded as if it came from the very deepest place inside him, Rafe leaned in and kissed her.
No hesitation. No softness. No finding his way.
He kissed her with a decade’s worth of built-up heat. And anger. And frustration. She felt it all. Every feeling, every drop of heartache, every wave of disbelief.
Sable couldn’t have prepared herself for such a kiss if she’d had a lifetime to try.
Sliding a hand around his neck, delving into his curls, she found herself swept away on an ocean of sensation as Rafe held her tighter. Kissed her harder. Heat rose within her, like a storm. A volcano. A rush of memory. And want.
This, her heart sang. This is what you’ve been missing for so long. This is what you want! Him.
All her sweetest memories were wrapped up in this man’s smiles, and she wanted to have his baby, and it had been eons since she’d been kissed with such...thoroughness. Who said she couldn’t have her cake and eat it too?
Her hand gripped the front of his shirt to drag him closer as the kiss deepened. Fuelled by regret and sorrow and punishment and mistakes they both clearly needed to fill with something more joyful.
Rafe’s hand moved. She whimpered at the loss. Only to feel it slide back around her waist, beneath her coat, beneath her jumper, to find the edge of her waist. Bare skin.
The rough pads of his fingers—familiar yet changed—created waves of sensation, rocketing through her.
How long since she’d been touched like this? Since she’d felt wanted. For nothing but her skin, her warmth, her kiss.
It was heady. A rush. A wondrous thing. She hadn’t even realised how much she missed that part of herself. Raw and honest and needy. Rich veins of need. Needing to be closer, to be a part of him, she lifted her leg to wrap itself around his.
Rafe growled, the sound echoing in her chest. Taking her under, till she could no longer hang onto a single thought—
Sable froze, hand at his chest now pressing flat as she tipped her head down, as she drew in a much-needed breath. It took every ounce of effort she had
