Tempt Me Read Online Free Page B

her feet, and they’d hobbled together to the cabin. She couldn’t connect the dots between then and now, lying in his arms, stripped down to her tank top, panties and socks, a water-filled Ziploc bag lashed to her wrist with an elastic bandage. Given that the long legs tangled up with hers were still clad in the same soft sweatpants he’d worn last night, it was unlikely that anything...interesting had happened.
    Why was he touching her at all? He usually did his best to avoid touching her. Given her close relationship with his family, she and Rafe couldn’t help but see each other occasionally, but when they did, he was distant. Scrupulously polite. Like they’d never—
    Sometimes she wondered if she’d hallucinated the best sex of her life.
    She’d had other lovers since Wyatt, of course—a few one night stands, and a couple of tepid relationships of such short duration that they hardly deserved the name—but Rafe had short duration down to an art, changing lovers as often as he changed designer shirts. She’d lost count of the number of gorgeous women she’d seen him with at Underbelly. He had a definite physical type—tall, busty glamazons with a yard of hair—but her? She barely cleared five feet. Bras were worn for fun, not function. Her hair, a viciously short pixie crop, was shorter than most men’s. He could have anyone he wanted, and God knew she had absolutely no game. Convincing her yearning body that there wasn’t going to be a repeat performance had been a challenge, but she’d done it. Burying herself in work, she’d done it.
    She bit back a moan as his wicked, talented fingers teased her bellybutton. Now she’d have to start over from scratch.
    His body curled around hers in a perfect, hard comma, his pillow-top lips nudging the exposed skin at the back of her neck. She shivered as his long, tawny hair drifted over her bare shoulders in a cool, silky tangle.
    No wonder men liked long hair on women so much.
    He tightened his arm around her, dragging her more firmly against his morning erection. She shifted her hips, and felt as much as heard his soft groan as he nibbled his way to her ear. Bit her tender earlobe. Time slowed to honey as he delved his long fingers under the narrow elastic waistband of her panties.
    Ah, God. She stroked her palm down a forearm laced with muscle and lightly dusted with hair. To stop him? To encourage him? Before she could decide, he found her, slick and hot and wet, caressing her with unerring accuracy and devastating skill. When she spread her legs further apart, he rewarded her with a wicked stroke that sent dark delight glittering through her system.
    Even asleep, he knew exactly how to ouch her.
    Clawing at the sagging bandage—it was in her way—the Ziploc bag fell to the rug with a soft plop. She clutched his ass, writhing and straining for the release that hovered just out of reach, like a helium balloon on a string.
    This was so wrong. He was asleep; he didn’t realize what he was doing, or with whom. He was an incubus, a sex demon, a slave to his biology. Any body would do.
    “Bailey...”
    Her name.
    “Touch me, babe.” He dragged her hand to the hot ridge thrusting behind his sweatpants. The thick, blunt flesh seared her palm like a brand, and he arched into her touch. Muttering something hot and sleepy under his breath, he flexed his hips, pressing his hand against hers—
    She gasped as a lightning bolt of pain shot from her wrist to her elbow.
    “Bailey? Shit.” He sat up, yanking his hand from her panties and swiping sleep-rumpled hair away from his face. “Are you okay?”
    How was she supposed to answer that question? “I just zinged my wrist.” The wrist connected to the hand that still cupped his... Sweet Jesus . She snatched her hand away from his erection. “Sor—”
    “No, I’m sorry.” His rough voice seemed a half an octave lower than usual. “You twisted your wrist when we fell in the driveway last night.” He pushed