With a sigh, Rafe ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “You know what I mean.”
“Do I?” I reached for the door handle. “Because I'm not sure either of us knows what we're doing anymore.”
Before he could respond, I pushed the door open and stepped out into the crisp evening air. The click of my heels against the pavement echoed my irritation as I strode toward the building'sentrance. I heard Rafe's door slam behind me, followed by his longer strides easily catching up.
“Cecelia.” Catching me by my elbow, he turned me to face him just outside the doors. “Wait.”
I looked up at him, suddenly aware of how much taller he was, especially with the way he seemed to loom over me with concern etched across those unfairly perfect features.
“What?” I crossed my arms over my chest.
His eyes searched mine for a long moment. “I...” He trailed off, then squared his shoulders. “I'm not good at this.”
“At what, exactly?”
“At whatever is happening between us.” He gestured vaguely between us and another one of those long, deep sighs blew over his lips. “I don't regret what happened,” he finally said. “But I've been giving you space to process it.”
“Space?” I repeated incredulously. “Is that what you think I want?”
He frowned. “Don't you?”
Ugh, men could be stupid sometimes. Even the smart ones. Especially the smart ones.
“If I wanted space, I wouldn't have gone to bed every single night hoping you’d touch me again.” Satisfaction flared when his eyes darkened again. “I wouldn't have hoped you’d kiss me again. And I definitely wouldn't have imagined you making me come again.”
His jaw tightened. “Cecelia—”
“But fine,” I continued, stepping closer until the heat of his body radiated against mine. “If you want to pretend nothing's changed, we can do that. Just know that tonight, when we go back to your penthouse, I'm going to be thinking about your hands on me. And there won't be a pillow wall to save you.”
I turned and pushed through the doors without waiting for his response. A small, vindictive thrill ran through me at the choked sound that followed.
The doorman greeted us with a polite nod, and Rafe's hand found the small of my back as we crossed the lobby toward the private elevator that would take us to Liam and Everlee's penthouse. The warmth of his palm burned through the thin silk of my dress.
“You can't say things like that to me right before we see our friends,” he murmured as the elevator doors slid closed.
I glanced at him innocently. “Like what?”
His eyes narrowed. “You know exactly what.”
“Then maybe you shouldn't assume I want space.” I reached up and straightened his tie, my fingers lingering against his chest. “Maybe you should ask me what I want.”
The elevator dinged as we reached the top floor, and Rafe's hand caught mine, pressing it more firmly against his heart. I could feel it racing beneath my palm.
“Later,” he promised, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine. “We will definitely discuss what you want. In detail.”
The doors slid open before I could respond, and we stepped into the foyer of Liam and Evie's penthouse. The sound of laughter and conversation drifted from further inside, along with the rich scent of something baking.
Yeah, my sister was definitely going for mother of the year before her baby even took his or her first breath.
Lucky kid.
As if summoned by thought alone, Evie appeared. She looked radiant, her dark hair twisted into an elegant knot, her green eyes—so similar to mine—bright with happiness. The slight curve of her belly was more pronounced than the last time I'd seen her.
“Cece.” She rushed forward, enveloping me in a hug. “I was starting to think you two weren't coming.”
“Traffic,” Rafe and I said simultaneously, then exchanged a look that made my sister’s eyebrows rise.
“Well, you're here now.” She pulled back, studying me with the intensity only an older sister could muster. “You look good.”
