“I just told you that you didn’t.”
“Paige,” he says, and this time his smile looks crooked, and real, and it makes my stomach tighten. He almost never uses my name. “Do you ever shut up?”
My lips part. “You’re rude.”
“So are you.”
“Only to you.”
“Funny,” he says, and there’s so little space in this kitchen, like the walls are conspiring to keep us close. “It’s the same for me. Like you bring out the worst in me.”
His hand comes up to tip my head back, fingers brushing beneath my chin. “Right back at you,” I say. “All I’m saying is… you could use some practice.”
His lips curve again. He’s smiled more in the last few minutes than he has in the weeks I’ve known him, and damn him, it’s throwing me off.
“Darling, if you think I’ll back down from a challenge, you haven’t been paying attention.” He dips his head, lips only an inch from mine. There’s a faint buzzing sound in my head. “If you bite me,” he murmurs, “remember that I bite back.”
He kisses me.
It’s soft and warm and skilled, like it was the last time. But then his fingers slide back to cup my face, and he tips my chin back, and his mouth grows firmer.
Oh, I think, as he kisses me with strong lips and lazy confidence.He’s not bad at this.
I wish he was.
But he’s not. He kisses me like he’s been thinking about this. Like he already knows I like it. I find the fabric of his shirt to hold on to. He tastes warm and clean and just faintly of whiskey, and the buzzing in my head is gone. It’s quiet, blissfully quiet, and my thumbs brush against the warmth of his chest.
The chest that I’ve seen in excruciating detail. Run my oil-covered hands over.
Rafe deepens the kiss, his tongue brushing against mine in a single sweep, and something drops out beneath me. He groans against my lips and pulls me tighter against his body.
Like he’s taking exactly what he wants.
Shivers rise over my bare skin. My nipples pebble against his chest, through the thin lace bra. I find his lower lip with my teeth, wantingmore, but he pulls back an inch.
“I told you, no biting.” His voice is husky, and he dips his head again, because that won’t stop him. Of course it won’t stop him.
Both of us have fangs.
“Rafe, man. You’ve been gone—Oh.” A loud Scottish voice sounds out nearby. Rafe lifts his head, but he doesn’t drop his hands. His pupils are blown wide.
“I’ll be back,” he calls over his shoulder.
I meet Alex’s gaze. The auburn-haired Scottish friend. “Take your time,” he tells us, grinning. He disappears back down the hallway.
Rafe runs a thumb over my cheek and brushes it over my lip. “Look at you, being so well-behaved,” he says. “You made it nearly the whole way through.”
My breath is coming so fast it’s embarrassing. “Now we know. We can do this in front of an audience.”
“Mhm. Not so pathetic.”
“No.” I release his shirt before I can do something worse, like try to kiss him again. I can’t give him the satisfaction. “It was… decent.”
Rafe lifts an eyebrow. He’s still touching me too, the asshole, his fingers on my cheek warm and soothing. “You’re lying.”
“Just because you’re attracted to me doesn’t mean I’m attracted toyou.”
He looks down at the lingerie. I think for a moment he wants to protest or tell me to close the robe.
