Come by Becca Jameson

eyes as she realized she couldn’t open them all the way. Tears welled up, but she swallowed them back and turned away from the mirror to use the toilet. She washed her hands without glancing up again. She’d seen enough.
    Avoiding the mirror, she brushed her teeth and brushed her hair. She splashed water over her face, relieved that the contact didn’t hurt too badly.
    As she headed down the hall, she wondered what Rafe would say when he saw her.
    The television on the living room wall was playing as she passed, but muted. Rafe stood at the kitchen counter, his back to her. She froze in her place and stared at him before he realized she was there. He busied himself with something in the sink.
    Holy moly. She held her breath. She hadn’t seen him without a shirt on before. Well, she must have seen him in the gym that first morning, but apparently nothing about him had registered.
    He was ripped. Tight firm muscles covered his back and tapered down to his perfect waist. But that was nothing compared to the tattoo running down his back and extending over one shoulder. A fierce dragon reared its head between his shoulder blades. How the hell had she not seen that before?
    She’d never been fond of tattoos in the past. But as she stood there on shaky legs, she licked her dry, cracked lips. She wanted to trace the edges of that tattoo and mold her fingers over the massive muscles underneath the intricate design.
    Hell, that wasn’t all she wanted.
    Rafe turned around and startled. “Hey.” His lopsided grin made her insides flip over. Suddenly he was sexier than ever. “I hope I didn’t wake you?”
    She shook her head. She wanted to speak, but her mouth wouldn’t move. She swallowed, but her lips were too dry.
    “Coffee?”
    She nodded now. “Please,” she managed to whisper. She inched her way toward the kitchen table, hoping she wouldn’t collapse or trip over her tongue on the way.
    This man was way the fuck out of her league. He needed to star in some film or something, not harbor a nerdy lawyer with a stalker from some strange past transgression.
    “You okay?” he asked as he pulled out a chair and settled her at the table. He handed her a steaming cup of coffee and pulled the cream and sugar toward her from the center of the table.
    “Of course.” She didn’t look at him directly. She couldn’t without drooling or melting into a puddle on the floor. Why couldn’t he put a shirt on or something? And then she remembered her face and groaned, rolling her eyes.
    Rafe lifted her chin with one finger and narrowed his gaze to examine her. “I told you it would look and feel worse today. It’ll heal though. Tomorrow it will be much better. The swelling will go down.”
    She nodded.
    “I’m making pancakes. Is that okay?”
    She moaned. He cooks too?
    Rafe pulled out the chair next to her and sat. He took one of her hands in his. “You seem off. Does your face hurt?” He scrutinized her nose and cheeks and eyes again with his gaze.
    “Not too bad. I’ll live.” She gulped and then pulled her fingers from his grip to wrap both hands around the coffee as if she were cold. She busied herself with the cream and sugar, thinking of his incredible thoughtfulness.
    Rafe stood and gently squeezed her shoulder. “Okay. Maybe you aren’t so good with words in the morning. I can live with that. You drink coffee. I’ll cook breakfast.” He chuckled and turned away.
    That didn’t help matters at all, because she couldn’t take her gaze off his incredible back. The only clothing he wore was a pair of loose shorts and she wanted to tug those down and get a good look at the rest of his package, to assure herself he was indeed real.
    Katy glanced down at her own apparel, loose-fitting, pink, flannel pants and a gray T-shirt. Sexy.
    She sipped her coffee and watched the erotic dance that was Rafe working in the kitchen. Every choreographed move he made caused her to stifle a groan. She tucked her wild curls behind