he was committed to seeing this through to the end.
“I’m not doing this for you,” he finally responded, knowing he was lying through his teeth. “Let’s just say this is what I consider rest and relaxation.”
8
L ONG AFTER S ARA HAD SAID good-night to Rafe, she lay awake in his guest room, unable to stop thinking about the events of the day. She still had a difficult time believing that anyone would want to harm her because of what she had witnessed, but deep inside, she knew it was true. There had been something in Rafe’s eyes when he’d told her about the men who had followed her that had left her in no doubt as to the sincerity of his words. Even if Rafe hadn’t told her about his suspicions, her own gut instinct had told her the same thing.
Curling on her side, she bunched the pillow beneath her head and listened to the unfamiliar sounds of Rafe’s townhouse. A clock ticked very quietly in the guest-room, and she could hear the soft whir of his dishwasher downstairs. She’d left her bedroom door open just a crack and a bar of light from the hallway fell across the floor. She knew that Rafe was just across the hall; she’d lain motionless as he’d come up the stairs and gone into his own room. Part of her had wondered if he would stop by her door or maybe come into her bedroom, and how she would react if he did. But his footsteps hadn’t paused or even slowed in front of her room.
Just remembering the heated intensity of his kiss and the scrape of his callused hands across her bare skin and she was aroused all over again. She knew now that Rafe was attracted to her, but he probably had some innate sense of honor that would prevent him from acting on his desires. He was probably old-fashioned enough to believe that would be taking unfair advantage of her, when he’d claimed that she would be safe with him.
She should be grateful that he had enough respect for her not to expect her to sleep with him in return for saving her life. Of course, he was gorgeous enough that he probably had women throwing themselves at him without having to do a thing. With a groan, Sara rolled onto her back, feeling tight and uncomfortable in her own skin. The truth was, if she was even a little more assertive or confident, she’d be one of those women.
How would he react if she walked across the hallway to his room, and asked if she could stay with him? If she stepped out of her own comfort zone and became the aggressor? Would he turn her around and gently send her back to her own bed, or would his eyes flare with hunger as he drew her into his arms?
Just the thought of having sex with Rafe—of having his hard, male body inside her own—caused heat to swamp her limbs. Her breasts ached and she shifted restlessly beneath the sheet. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d experienced such intense need . Everything about him turned her on, from the expression in his coffee-dark eyes when he looked at her to the strength and grace of his body. She recalled the few times he’d actually smiled and how that brief flash of humor had transformed his face. Even his voice was sexy, with its low, rasping quality. Most of all, she liked how he made her feel—fragile and feminine.
Safe.
Sexy.
Turning onto her stomach, she bent her arms under the pillow and stared at the small clock on the bedside table. Almost midnight. She’d come to bed more than two hours ago, and yet sleep eluded her. She tried closing her eyes, but even through her closed lids she imagined she could see the light slanting in from the hallway.
Pushing the blankets back, Sara sat up and swung her legs to the floor. Maybe if she turned the hallway light off, she could finally fall asleep. Her usual night-wear consisted of a camisole top and her underwear, but in deference to Rafe, she’d also packed flannel lounge pants. They rode low on her hips as she made her way cautiously to her door and peeked out.
Rafe’s bedroom was diagonally across the
“I’m not doing this for you,” he finally responded, knowing he was lying through his teeth. “Let’s just say this is what I consider rest and relaxation.”
8
L ONG AFTER S ARA HAD SAID good-night to Rafe, she lay awake in his guest room, unable to stop thinking about the events of the day. She still had a difficult time believing that anyone would want to harm her because of what she had witnessed, but deep inside, she knew it was true. There had been something in Rafe’s eyes when he’d told her about the men who had followed her that had left her in no doubt as to the sincerity of his words. Even if Rafe hadn’t told her about his suspicions, her own gut instinct had told her the same thing.
Curling on her side, she bunched the pillow beneath her head and listened to the unfamiliar sounds of Rafe’s townhouse. A clock ticked very quietly in the guest-room, and she could hear the soft whir of his dishwasher downstairs. She’d left her bedroom door open just a crack and a bar of light from the hallway fell across the floor. She knew that Rafe was just across the hall; she’d lain motionless as he’d come up the stairs and gone into his own room. Part of her had wondered if he would stop by her door or maybe come into her bedroom, and how she would react if he did. But his footsteps hadn’t paused or even slowed in front of her room.
Just remembering the heated intensity of his kiss and the scrape of his callused hands across her bare skin and she was aroused all over again. She knew now that Rafe was attracted to her, but he probably had some innate sense of honor that would prevent him from acting on his desires. He was probably old-fashioned enough to believe that would be taking unfair advantage of her, when he’d claimed that she would be safe with him.
She should be grateful that he had enough respect for her not to expect her to sleep with him in return for saving her life. Of course, he was gorgeous enough that he probably had women throwing themselves at him without having to do a thing. With a groan, Sara rolled onto her back, feeling tight and uncomfortable in her own skin. The truth was, if she was even a little more assertive or confident, she’d be one of those women.
How would he react if she walked across the hallway to his room, and asked if she could stay with him? If she stepped out of her own comfort zone and became the aggressor? Would he turn her around and gently send her back to her own bed, or would his eyes flare with hunger as he drew her into his arms?
Just the thought of having sex with Rafe—of having his hard, male body inside her own—caused heat to swamp her limbs. Her breasts ached and she shifted restlessly beneath the sheet. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d experienced such intense need . Everything about him turned her on, from the expression in his coffee-dark eyes when he looked at her to the strength and grace of his body. She recalled the few times he’d actually smiled and how that brief flash of humor had transformed his face. Even his voice was sexy, with its low, rasping quality. Most of all, she liked how he made her feel—fragile and feminine.
Safe.
Sexy.
Turning onto her stomach, she bent her arms under the pillow and stared at the small clock on the bedside table. Almost midnight. She’d come to bed more than two hours ago, and yet sleep eluded her. She tried closing her eyes, but even through her closed lids she imagined she could see the light slanting in from the hallway.
Pushing the blankets back, Sara sat up and swung her legs to the floor. Maybe if she turned the hallway light off, she could finally fall asleep. Her usual night-wear consisted of a camisole top and her underwear, but in deference to Rafe, she’d also packed flannel lounge pants. They rode low on her hips as she made her way cautiously to her door and peeked out.
Rafe’s bedroom was diagonally across the
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