Love Me if You Dare by Carly Phillips

clock on the wall.
    “We could sit and talk for a while,” she suggested. As if she weren’t half-naked. And he weren’t completely aroused, the blood rushing in his ears, through his head and settling in one very obvious body part.
    There was no way she could miss it any more than he could ignore it. “Or we could pick up where we left off on the beach.”
    Her eyes widened in surprise. “I thought you said it was a bad idea?”
    He inclined his head. “It probably is.”
    They looked at life from opposite points of view. He wanted to believe anything was possible. She was a cynic, always looking for the worst. He knew betterthan to think he could convince her to change her mind about relationships.
    But he could change his about short-term affairs.
    She reached out and placed her hand against his forehead much as he’d done to her the other day. “Are you sure you’re not sick?”
    “I’m sure.” He was burning up, but not from fever. He stepped closer. “Are you still interested?”
    She didn’t back away. “I could be persuaded…if I knew what brought on the change of heart.”
    He dove in completely. Meeting her gaze, he lifted a lock of her long hair, winding it around one finger. “I didn’t like it when those guys tried to hit on you back at Angel’s.”
    Her eyes darkened to a richer hue. Desire shimmered in the chocolate depths, and a pleased smile tipped her lips. “So that explains your snippy behavior.”
    “You sound pleased.”
    She shrugged. “Maybe I am. Nobody wants to be rejected, even if the reason is a sound one.” She paused, biting down on her lower lip.
    “I’m not turning you down this time,” he assured her.
    She nodded her head in understanding. “But…”
    “What?” He couldn’t take it if she rejected him, and steeled himself for whatever she said next.
    “Are you sure you’re up to it?” She reached outand gently drew her hand over the still-fresh scar on his chest, her fingertip delicate and hesitant as she touched his skin.
    Memories of waking up and seeing her in his hospital room came flooding back. Of Sara asleep in a chair, watching over him—caring for him. Yes, they’d already bonded emotionally, and knowing she cared deeply merely assured him that this next step was right.
    Necessary.
    As necessary to him as breathing, Rafe thought. Because there was no way he could walk away from her.
    “So, what do we do now?” she asked.
    “This.” Rafe tugged lightly on her hair and pulled her toward him.
    She came willingly.
    Her lips met his, and all the oxygen sucked from the room. This was what he’d been waiting for. Starving for. He swirled his tongue inside her mouth and found himself surrounded by her scent and her taste, aroused by the sweet feel of her lips urgent and insistent on his.
    She snuggled in close, plastering her body against his until his bare chest crushed her breasts. Skin against skin, every soft curve pressed tightly into him. There was no room between them. Not even air.
    She trailed kisses with her lips from his mouth tohis jaw, her hot breath against his cheek, her wicked tongue whispering over his skin.
    He shuddered from the arousing sensations he never wanted to end.
    “Take me to bed,” she whispered into his ear.
    She asked for what she wanted, and he liked that about her.
    Rafe grabbed her hand and led her into the bedroom. He paused by the nightstand and opened the drawer, pulling out a box of condoms.
    “I like a man who’s prepared.” She sat on the bed and eased back against the pillows, the pose provocative and arousing: everything he hadn’t let himself want, there for the taking.
    His heart beat hard inside his chest. He placed the foil packet on the corner of the mattress and sat beside her, deliberately leaving the dim light on so he could enjoy the view. Her hair fanned over the pillows, her eyes hooded and pupils dilated. He watched in awe as her nipples tightened, peaking beneath the flimsy material,