Which explained Courtney’s panic, and why she was strangling the bouquet in her white-knuckled hands. She was probably dreading the possibility of him catching the garter.
“Get your game face on,” Shane urged in a low voice, clapping Rafe on the shoulder, hard. “I don’t want to be here if this asshole next to me gets the garter. No matter what happens, remember, you’re an officer of the law. Keep it legal.”
Rafe nodded, but his focus was solely on Galen’s hand as he turned his back to the group and prepared to throw the tiny blue scrap of silk. Courtney might not want him up her dress, but there was no way in hell he was letting Frat Boy take advantage of her in the way he so clearly intended to.
When the garter came his way, the anger had drained away, leaving behind laser-like focus. And when Frat Boy checked him hard in the side, he checked him even harder back, sending the kid stumbling as his own fingers closed over the prize.
Even over the cheers of the guests, he heard Courtney’s gasp and met her gaze, his tunnel vision expanding to include her. She sat on a chair in the middle of the dance floor, eyes wide as he walked toward her, unable to squash the rush of adrenaline pounding through him. He might make her nervous, but at least that other guy wasn’t going to put his hands on her. If she knew what the bastard’s intentions had been, she might actually be grateful right now.
And what about your intentions? his conscience whispered.
So maybe they hadn’t always been pure, he conceded, but this time, he had only done what he’d done to protect her. He stopped in front of her chair and tipped his head at her.
“Ready for me?”
It wasn’t supposed to come out like that. All low and growly. But his pulse was still jacked over the near-brawl, and looking down at her now and realizing what he had to do was only making it pound harder.
“Do your worst,” she murmured, lifting her head dramatically, like she was at the gallows and he was her executioner.
His worst? Rafe let loose a rusty chuckle. Fuck, if she only knew how bad his worst could be, she’d already be up and running. Although he’d done his best, his worst, and everything in between to her a hundred times in his dreams.
The only thing that kept him in check was the realization that she had no clue what she was asking for. Because to a guy like him? That kind of declaration was an invitation. And in that way, a good bedroom dom was like a vampire.
An invitation was all he needed.
Not this time.
She’d made her position clear earlier, whether she meant what she’d said or not. He had to play nice.
He lowered himself to the floor, reluctantly slid off her strappy, fuck-me sandal and set it down next to him. She had a thing for shoes. Nearly every time he saw her, unless it was right after her shift at the hospital, she was in heels. Heels he couldn’t help but imagine locked around his neck while she rode his tongue.
Jesus, he was no better than Frat Boy.
Except she wasn’t looking at Frat Boy like he was a fat, forbidden slice of chocolate cake. She wouldn’t admit it, but there was no question she felt it too. The pull between them, thick as taffy on a summer day. A slow, sexy song began to play, and the guests all clapped and stomped, calling their names.
“Get on with it, Romeo.” She had her serious RN voice on now and for some twisted reason, the disparity between that and her body language raised his blood pressure higher, making his cock pulse. Sharp-witted and strong-willed, which he respected in so many ways. But in the bedroom, she’d be all his.
He bit back a curse, shut down his brain altogether, and focused every ounce of his energy on the task at hand. No time for thinking. It was time to get a garter on a bridesmaid. Not the Courtney he knew who’d wormed her vanilla way into his rocky road dreams. Just some girl on a chair.
Sitting right in front of him.
Lips parted.
Pulse pounding.
Pink-cheeked.
Shit.
He squeezed his eyes closed and took her leg in hand to circle her slim ankle. Lightly at first, then, without conscious thought, more firmly, letting her feel his strength. She gasped, and his eyes snapped open.
He tried, god knew he tried to fight it, but it was like his hands had a mind of their own, desperate to make her gasp again, desperate to take her further as he slid to the side, taking her ankle with him. A scant few inches that would be imperceptible to onlookers, but that Courtney no doubt felt, as the move spread her legs for him. Not wide. Just open enough to make her aware of her position. Just open enough to let her know what was on his mind…what he really wanted from her in that moment.
Watch yourself, his mind blared.
But he was too far gone.
He kept his gaze trained on her face as he tightened his fingers into a band of resistance, effectively restraining her, and slid the garter over her foot and onto her calf. Her throat worked visibly, her body tensing as she opened her mouth to say something, but she closed it with a snap. He lifted her leg high then, resting her ankle on his shoulder and pinning it there with his hand.
The crowd squealed with excitement and laughter, caught up in the bawdy tradition and outward bravado of the moment, but the look on Courtney’s face was anything but funny. Her lush bottom lip was caught between her teeth and her eyes lit with fire so hot it nearly brought him low.
And what was so much worse?
She didn’t pull away.
Chapter Two
Panic warred with bone-deep need as Courtney stared down into the face that had dominated her thoughts for weeks now. His jaw was set tight, his gaze so intense, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to be the true focus of that intensity. Naked. On a bed. Heck, on a floor, for that matter.
A peal of laughter—Lacey’s?—broke through the sensual spell Rafe had woven over her, and she shook her head briskly.
This wasn’t right. None of it. Her enjoyment of his sure grip. Her twisted desire to offer up her other foot for the more of the same. The wild thoughts of him switching places with her, planting his fine ass on this frou-frou chair and dragging her over his lap.
For what? her subconscious whispered. So that he could spank her?
Her body tensed, and a bolt of lightning zinged through her before settling right between her thighs. Panic escalated as she jerked against his unyielding fingers.
“People are watching, Court,” he murmured. “You getting up and tearing ass out of here will look really strange. I know you’re nervous and afraid of what you’re feeling, but trust me, I’d never do anything you didn’t want me to.”
His eyes shone with absolute sincerity, and she willed herself to settle back in.
He was right. It was one thing to escape for a minute before the festivities had begun. It was something else entirely to run away from what would appear to onlookers as nothing more than a campy wedding tradition.
They had no way of knowing that she was falling to pieces on the inside.
“Fine. Then what I want is for you to get on with it, for Pete’s sake.”
He tipped his head to the side and nodded slowly before sliding the garter up her leg without further ado. It settled into place over her thigh, and she steeled herself for his touch on the way down, but he was careful to avoid even incidental contact.
“Your wish is my command.” A second later, he set her foot gently back onto the ground, sat back on his haunches, and settled the skirt of her dress back into place.
The music faded out and she forced a smile as the crowd clapped enthusiastically. He’d done exactly as she’d asked and, finally, it was over.
So why did she feel so bereft?
Before she could think too hard on the answer to that question, a loud voice rang in her ear.
“Whew! You guys were like something out of an Animal Planet documentary for a minute out there,” Cat said, yanking her up from the chair. Rafe stood, offering a mocking half grin and sweeping bow in their direction before ges
turing toward the bar.
“Now that the garter is safely hidden away, can I get you ladies a drink?”
Courtney pressed a hand to her heated cheeks and mumbled a “no thanks,” adding a head shake in case he couldn’t hear her.
Maybe it was a combination of looks and confidence, or maybe it was the almost palpable sexuality of the man topped off with the aura of raw, masculine power, but whatever it was, she literally couldn’t handle it, and he knew it. She needed to regroup.
“I just got a fresh one,” Cat said, holding up a glassful of ruby-red liquid. “But thanks.”
Courtney allowed her friend to lead her away to a quiet corner where she pinned her with her an all-too-perceptive gaze.
“You know, Rafe is part of the crew. You’re going to have to figure out whatever this is between you and either get past it or grab on to it. Better now than letting it drag out.” She flicked a look over her shoulder in Rafe’s direction and waggled her eyebrows comically. “And if you were smart, you’d be all about the grabbing on to it. He’s almost as cute as Shane.”
Courtney managed a halfhearted snort of faux-disgust. “Are you for real right now? You know what he’s into. This is the kind of stuff that sets feminism back a hundred years.” She set her bouquet on the linen-covered table and tried not to cringe at the shrill piousness in her voice, wondering who exactly she was trying to convince.
After weeks of trying to stay atop her high horse, she’d finally accepted that her issues weren’t with Rafe’s lifestyle at all. The bluster was just a bunch of meaningless words now, thrown up like shields to deflect from the real crux of the matter. Spankings and handcuffs didn’t scare her. Relationships scared her. Getting lost in a man again—especially one so strong, one who would be so easy to get lost in—that was what had her shaking in her shoes. But she wasn’t about to admit that to Cat.
Her friend shook her head violently, sending her brassy curls swinging. “You are so wrong. Sure, I wouldn’t put up with a guy bossing me out of bed, but in the bedroom?” She shrugged and grinned. “It’s kinda hot. When Shane goes a little alpha on me, I get all melty. Seriously, you shouldn’t knock it until you try it.”
She crossed her arms over her chest to chase away the odd chill that had sneaked up on her. “I’m pretty sure we’re not talking about your run-of-the-mill, occasional-furry-handcuff stuff here, Cat. I think it’s more than that.”
Lie. She knew it was more than that. Even during their three-minute interaction on the dance floor, she could feel the strength of his will winding its way around her, tugging her toward some dark, hidden place. What if it grew deeper, into something more than sexual control?
Emotional currency. That’s what she couldn’t afford to gamble with again.
It had happened so slowly with Wes. Over the course of eighteen months. First, it was “making sure everyone had everyone else’s e-mail and computer passwords.” A “good-faith gesture to foster a feeling of trust and mutual respect.” Then it was making sure everyone was being considerate by calling to confirm that it was okay to make plans that didn’t involve the other person. And so it went.
Not once in the first year did any of it raise a single red flag. She blindly followed along, thinking how much more efficient and civilized their relationship was compared to other couples around them. Until the two-way street became a one-way street and she found herself asking for permission to go the grocery store.
By the time she had reached point break and got the balls up to walk away, it was too late. When she was feeling heartsick and alone, she’d picked up the phone and realized there was no one left to call. Her friends had dropped off one by one after broken plans when Wes decided that she didn’t need to go out after all, or unreturned calls when Wes had decided that she really had no use for her own cell phone anyway.
Courtney swallowed a sigh, wishing she could share her fears with Cat, but she wasn’t ready to talk about Wes yet. Not because she didn’t trust her friend, but because she was ashamed of her weakness…ashamed for letting it get as bad as it did.
“All joking aside, whatever you decide to do, make sure you’re careful with Rafe,” Cat said, concern chasing the smile from her usually laughing eyes. “I’m all about having fun, but as much as I love him, he’s not the kind of guy that sticks. Not anymore, at least.”
Had Rafe gotten hurt before too? Courtney’s heart tripped at the sadness on Cat’s face. Before she could press her for the details she wasn’t sure she really wanted to know, their tipsy bride burrowed between them, face aglow.
“Come and do the Electric Slide with me! Hurry, before it’s over,” Lacey said.
Courtney pushed aside the melancholy thoughts and took Lacey’s hand, and the three of them headed back to the dance floor. They’d dance a while, get through the cake ritual, and before she knew it, people would be saying their good-byes, with her leading the pack. Galen and Lacey had a flight to catch in a couple of hours, in any case, so there was a definite expiration time to her misery and confusion.
Then, with Cat’s blessing or without it, Operation Avoidance was in full effect, at least until she fortified her defenses after this recent breech.
Yup, as long as she stayed out of the path of Hurricane Davenport for a few weeks, everything would be A-okay.
Nooo sweat.
…
Rafe blew out a long sigh and tightened his grip on the steering wheel, trying not to remember how it felt when he’d tightened that same grip over Courtney’s silky ankle. It was going to be another long night fueled by erotic dreams. After touching all that smooth skin, it was a given. He was going to have to put some serious time and effort into solving this problem, because it was really starting to impact his life.
With a growl of frustration, he clicked on the radio. Maybe some loud music would drown out his thoughts. He’d gone a whole three minutes without thinking about her when a dim light ahead caught his attention. He frowned through his windshield as he sidled up to a familiar silver coupe off to the side of the dark, tree-lined road.
What were the fucking odds?
He bit back a groan and pulled over, slowing to a stop before popping it into park.
Courtney had left the reception a good thirty minutes before him, and now here she was, sitting in her car, illuminated only by the light of her cell phone, on which she was tapping away. What was so damned important that it couldn’t wait until she got home? A booty call, maybe?
The thought shouldn’t have sent a bolt of annoyance through him, but it did. Her sex life wasn’t any of his concern, and she was entitled to all the booty she could wrangle up. No skin off his ass. Maybe her pulling over on a narrow, deserted road a wink away from full-on nighttime with no streetlights around wasn’t the brightest of ideas, but he guessed it beat the hell out of texting and driving.
Still, he wasn’t about to let her stay there if he could help it. He fumbled in his glove box for a second and then stuck the police lights onto the roof, flicking them on before pulling around in front of her.
He left the lights flashing as he got out and strode to her car. The window slid down, and she glared at him.
“Is that really necessary?” she muttered, setting the phone aside.
“Necessary?” He considered that, and her pretty, flushed face, for a long moment before shaking his head slowly. “Maybe not, but if someone comes around that corner less than alert, they could clip your back end. At least this way they’ll see the lights flashing.”
She chewed her bottom lip and looked away. “Fine. When you leave, I’ll put my hazards on.”
He leaned in and unlocked her car door from the inside, smothering a chuckle as she leaned back as far as the stick shift would allow her to. “I’m not going to molest you, Courtney.” Opening the door, he gestured for her to step out. “Unless of course, you want me to.”
She gave him the dead eyes and swung her legs onto the pavement.
“Can you turn the lights off, please?
” She poked a finger toward the dash and popped on her hazards. “If someone I know drives by they’re going to think I’m getting arrested.”
Since two of the four people from the wedding who would’ve been taking that particular road back home were en route to the airport, and the other two had opted to spend the night in the cabin, there was a pretty good chance no one they knew was going to happen by, but that wasn’t his concern at the moment.
“Should you be driving?” He vaguely recalled her drinking a couple glasses of wine early on, and a glass of champagne that Cat had given her, but once cake had been served, she’d seemed much more interested in staring steadfastly into her coffee mug for the last hour or so than interacting with anyone or merrymaking.
“I’m fine. If I wasn’t, I would’ve stayed overnight at the cabin with Cat and Shane.”
He eyed her assessingly, and she pursed her lips.
“Did you need to give me a sobriety test, Officer?”
“It’s Detective, remember?” He helped her out of the car, part of him annoyed by her wisecracks, the other part thinking of all the ways he could put that mouth to better use if only she saw things his way.
“Okay, Detective. But for your information, I was driving fine until a rabbit ran in front of me and I swerved into the curb to avoid it and punctured my tire. I was waiting for a call back from roadside assistance when you stopped to harass me.”
Lucky she hadn’t swerved and hit a tree. She should’ve taken her chances with the rabbit and dealt with the guilt. Better a dead bunny than having to be wrenched out of a scrap of twisted metal via Jaws of Life and carted to a hospital. He opened his mouth to tell her that, but then snapped it shut.
She clearly wasn’t in the mood for a lecture, and he was already on the edge of doing something stupid. No need to guarantee it by getting into some sort of pissing contest with her that could only end in more fireworks between them.
He wound his way around to the passenger’s side of the car, and she followed behind.
Eyeing the obliterated tire, he nodded. “Yep, that’s flat, all right. But you can call the place back and cancel. I’ll change it for you as long as you have a spare.”
“That’s one option,” she agreed. “Or I could continue to sit here doing just fine all by myself and wait a few minutes for them to get back to me while I dominate at Words With Friends.” She looked very pleased with herself until her choice of words registered and then she started to stutter. “Like…not dominate dominate. But I’m good at it. Words With Friends, I mean. On my cell phone.”
“I knew what you meant.” He’d almost convinced himself to let her off the hook, but the devil took hold of him again. “I’m good at it, too. And I don’t mean Words With Friends.”
She blinked up at him, the pink tip of her tongue flicking out to wet her lips, catching his attention, making him wish she would use it on him.
Anywhere.
Everywhere.
She cleared her throat, crossing her arms over her chest, and the move sent her breasts plumping up to strain the sweetheart neckline of her dress. “Why are you doing this?” she asked, her husky voice making his cock swell against the fly of his tuxedo pants.
“Doing what?” He moved closer, like a fish on a hook, drawn to her in a way he couldn’t explain, never mind control. He didn’t stop until they were only a foot apart, and she craned her neck to look up at him.
“That,” she said, her voice breaking. “This.” She waved a fluttering hand back and forth between them. “Don’t play dumb, Rafe. You know exactly what I mean. Why do you keep toying with me?”
The air crackled, and the sound of insects chirping filled the air, amplified by their deafening silence. Walk away, his brain supplied helpfully, almost frantically. Just walk away. But the rest of him didn’t get the memo because his feet wouldn’t cooperate.
Instead, his stupid mouth took the lead. “Hell if I know,” he said, shaking his head slowly. His feet chose that moment to start working again and closed the last of the gap between them. The deepest part of him reveled in her gasp as their thighs bumped.
“I’d love to take the blame for”—he mimicked her hand motion—“this. And frankly, if it was all me, it would be easy to stop. But it’s not, is it?”
“It is,” she insisted, but her face told another story.
“No. You and I did fine together before.” He was close enough to catch the scent of her light perfume, and it made his head swim with the need to press his face to her nape and breathe her in more deeply. “The tension was there, but we kept our distance and still managed to hang with the group, no problem.” Aside from him fantasizing about her, but he didn’t view that as a problem, and that wasn’t the point. What was the point again? “The point is, before a couple weeks ago, you didn’t know what I was into, nor did you care. It wasn’t something I talked about, and it wasn’t like I tried to convert you to my way of thinking.”
No sense mentioning that he’d considered doing exactly that on more than one occasion.
“Then you changed toward me the instant you heard—secondhand, I might add—that I like to dominate my women sexually.”
The growing panic on her face fled and she lifted her chin. “See?” She poked him in the chest with her pointer finger. “You said ‘my women.’ That’s so archaic. It’s the twenty-first century. A woman doesn’t belong to anyone.” Her gaze was triumphant, her stance aggressive and chock-full of “gotcha there.”