Bound and Determined (20 page)

He had not invited her along, but she hadn’t expected it. Mark, when confronted with heavy subjects, often retreated to “get his head screwed back on straight,” as he liked to put it. She recognized the signs. And wanted to kick herself. What on earth had possessed her to ask him personal questions? Clearly, he would rather have had a root canal without Novocain. If she had just gotten over her emotional spell in the shower and shut up, he’d be here, and they’d be laughing or having sex . . . or both.

But no. She’d been as smooth as Stuttering John in a singles’ bar.

It was equally clear that Rafael Dawson was a lonely man. A man who had no one. Sure, he had money. That didn’t change the fact his father was an ass, his assistant was nothing more than an employee, and his pals only friends on the surface. Rafe would return to New York soon, back to his half-life. Without her. But she meant to give him one great memory of
their time together, so her next course of action was as obvious as a black thong under thin white shorts.

A box of Twinkies, a bit of red food coloring, and a dozen condoms later, Kerry stood back and surveyed her handiwork with a smile.

S
urprise!” Kerry shouted as Rafe walked back through the French doors some forty-five minutes later.

Startled, he looked from her dimpled smile to the shadowy bedroom beyond. A lone black crepe streamer ran the length of the far window, barely visible in the dimly lit room.

A black streamer? She’d half-decorated for a funeral? If she was shouting “surprise” at him, did that mean he was the guest of honor?

“What’s this?” he asked.

Kerry slapped her palm against her forehead. Darting to the French doors behind him, she slammed them shut and, with a flick of her wrists, she threw back the sheers. Sunlight spilled in, illuminating the bedroom in a golden glow.

The black streamer was actually purple. So it wasn’t a funeral. That was good news. But he was now puzzled by the oddly oval-shaped balloons in different colors that decorated the floor. What the heck was going on?

“It’s a birthday party, goof—or at least the best I could manage in less than an hour. If your friends aren’t going to give you a party . . . well, I wanted you to have one. Happy almost-thirtieth birthday.”

As she grabbed his hand and squeezed, amazement dropped his jaw. Kerry had organized a birthday party? Out of the clear blue sky? For him?

Something warm exploded in his chest.

“I didn’t have a lot to work with,” she hedged. “I only found one length of streamer, but I used it. The balloons . . .”

Peering down, Rafe really looked at the her inflatable décor. “Condoms?”

She grinned. “I found a box of multicolored ones and I thought,
What the hell
. Well, except when I nearly hyperventilated blowing them all up.”

Her laughter was infectious, and he repressed a smile to deliver his dry return. “You realize that’s a waste of perfectly good condoms.”

“It’s your birthday. There are plenty of other condoms for
those
occasions,” she scolded. “Now your cake . . . I had to improvise—a lot.”

She pointed to the little table by the bed. A lumpy rectangular blob sat on a plate, smothered in whipped topping. Red lettering on top read
HAPPY BIRTHDAY RAFE
, though his name was a little smaller than the rest, so it would all fit.

It was the funniest-looking cake he’d ever seen. Despite that, joy raced through his system, scraping down his nerve endings, mingling with other feelings he didn’t understand. When was the last time he’d had a birthday party? Rafe frowned, counting back the years. He drew mostly a blank, until he thought of his mother. She’d thrown him a party for his eleventh birthday in May before she’d died that October.

“The cake is ten Twinkies held together by some whipped topping.” Kerry bit her lip, looking nervous. “I—I found a little food coloring and dyed some of the topping red for the writing. Hard to spread. You probably can’t read it.” Her shoulders drooped. “You look unamused. Maybe this was a bad idea.”

His gaze flew to her, zeroing in on her uncertain face. She thought he was unamused after she’d done something so amazing for him? “I’m stunned. It’s the nicest thing anyone has done for me in years.”

With those simple words, a smile blossomed across her face. Pink tinged her makeup-free cheeks. Her mossy green eyes sparkled with delight. Standing there in his rumpled shirt with her pale curls shoved half-up, half-down in a haphazard clip, Rafe was sure she was the most beautiful woman he knew. Certainly, she was the warmest. Amazing that no one had taken advantage of her tender heart. Or that she still had it, given her childhood. But he admired the hell out of her for it. Most people he knew, himself included, would be scared shitless to expose that much of themselves to anyone.

Not Kerry.

The warm something that had exploded in his chest earlier
was still swimming around and making mush of his insides. It urged him to grab her and hold her close.

Still holding her hand, Rafe used it to pull her into his embrace. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. Should I sing to you? I found a candle and a book of matches in the kitchen.”

“Can you sing? Would Simon Cowell throw you off the stage?”

From the corner of her eye, she slanted him a guilty look. “In a heartbeat.”

He couldn’t hold back a smile. “That’s honest. You were willing to embarrass yourself?”

“It’s for a good cause.”

“Let’s skip the singing, shall we?”

“Good call.” She snuggled deeper into his arms. “Want cake?”

Glancing askance at the cake, he winced. “Is it poisonous? How long have those . . . ingredients been sitting around here?”

“Well, I can’t answer one way or the other. I can only say the Cool Whip wasn’t growing anything, so that was encouraging. The Twinkies, I don’t worry about. Did you know they have no expiration date? And take it from me, someone with my hips is an authority on that subject.”

Rafe felt a crooked grin cross his face. “Would you be offended if I said I was far more interested in getting my mouth on your hips . . . or any spot nearby, than that cake?”

“You mean, all that effort going to waste?” She gaped at him in mock outrage.

“Just call me an asshole. I doubt it would be the first time.”

“Not exactly.” She giggled. “So let’s talk instead about a gift.”

Kerry’s sugar sunshine scent teased him to distraction, and he began nibbling on the soft skin of her neck. “Gift? That sounds promising.”

“Don’t get excited. First, I’m a waitress, and when last I looked, your occupation brings home a lot more than mine. Second—stop that,” she giggled as he licked her sensitive lobe and breathed in her ear.

Rafe ignored her. What was it about this woman that revved up his libido? He was operating on very little food or sleep and a whole lot of sex. But it was more than mere sex. He’d walked the beach, contemplative, grim, thinking about his life. Two minutes with Kerry and he felt high on her, somehow light, optimistic even—a definite first for him. He’d love to bottle this sensation and gulp it down whenever he’d had a shitty day. Something about her made everyone around her more carefree. It was hard not to like a girl who could make you laugh, make you horny, and make you think—all in the same day.

“Second,” she went on, “there’s no store anywhere near, so you’ll have to be creative in asking for a gift.”

“Creative.” He unlatched the top button of the shirt she wore and whispered, “That sounds suspiciously like an invitation.”

“Maybe.”

Kerry was all coquette now, and Rafe liked it. The tease in her was even more interesting when she ran her palm up his thigh, narrowly missing his stirring erection.

“Maybe not,” she countered.

In response, Rafe unhooked another button on her shirt and slid the white cotton off her bare shoulder and brushed a thumb over the swell of her breast, just above her nipple. “I certainly don’t want to take anything you’re not willing to give.”

“Of course not.”

He touched her again, this time caressing the side of her breast and narrowly missing the tip. She sighed, her eyes closing.

She looked pretty willing at the moment.

Rafe smiled. “So how about this: I only give you what you beg me for.”

Her eyes perked open. “Excuse me?”

“That’s what I want for my birthday. I want to touch you until I drive you insane with want. I’m not going to give in—or give you anything—until you beg.”

“You asking me to beg defeats the purpose, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, I fully anticipate that you’ll hold out as long as you can.” The expectation raced through his system faster than ants to spilled sugar. “You’re no pushover.”

“Think you can make me beg? Pretty cocky, aren’t you?”

Laughing, despite the lust tearing through his system, Rafe tilted his hips against hers, letting her feel him at full staff. “With you, always.”

“You have no shame.”

Neither did she, apparently. She wriggled her hips against his until his cock met her mound. Her mock scold was lost on him. In response, he released the third button on her shirt and stole a glance at the newly exposed swells of her breasts. “Why bother?”

“I’ll have you know I’m pretty stubborn.”

“I figured that out already.” Softly, he slid a pair of fingers over the downy skin between her breasts, curled his touch to the hidden underside of one swell. “That’s why this will be fun. What do you say? Up to the challenge?”

“Absolutely. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Let the games begin,” he murmured against her mouth.

Her lips, lush, soft, rosy, lay just beneath his. Her eyes closed, and Rafe sensed not just her desire but her trust. Hunger surged inside him, greedy, insistent, as he claimed her mouth. Hard to believe he’d already had her twice today and it was barely noon. And that his blood was pumping a hot demand for more through his veins already. God, what was it about this woman?

Her taste. As soon as she opened to him and he swept his tongue inside, her flavor hit him. Sugary whipped topping and the tang of orange juice combined with a hint of cherry to create something addicting, something uniquely her. One kiss wasn’t enough. Nor was two.

Kerry soothed and comforted him like a cheery firelit home. But as always, she was a dichotomy. Even as she contented him, she incited him, made him wild. When he touched her, his blood raged, molten and unrelenting with need. He had to have more. He needed her open to him, wet for him, entreating him—now.

Damn, he was becoming a greedy bastard. He had to take it easy on her. She was new at this.

Pulling her closer, flush against his straining erection, he could only hope she wasn’t too sore from rounds one and two. Of course, if she was, he could always kiss it and make it better . . .

He eased one hand down her back, over the sweet curve of her ass, then lifted the tail of his shirt. Her bare bottom warmed his palm, even as he parted the shirt farther over her breasts with his other hand. The garment’s shoulder fell down to the crook of her elbow, exposing her right breast. A simple flick of his thumb over her nipple caused a thrilling catch in her breath. A second brush elicited a moan. The caress of his finger between the firm cheeks of her ass had her gasping.

Rafe found the remaining buttons of the shirt and flicked them away, working his mouth down her neck. He nipped at her shoulders, slid his tongue over her collarbone—and kept heading south, sliding the shirt down, down as he went. Finally, it swept past her hips to puddle on the floor at her feet, leaving her wonderfully, gloriously naked.

“You have the most lush body,” he whispered against the swell of her breast. “Ripe, pliant. All woman.”

She sighed. “A little too ripe.”

“Because you have curves? I prefer to make love to a woman, not someone with all the shape of a twelve-year-old boy. You”—he kissed the side of her breast lightly, grazing her with his tongue—“have everything a man could want.”

At that, Kerry drew in a ragged breath and mercifully dropped the subject. They had much more important things to concentrate on.

Rafe continued his quest down her body. He bypassed her nipple, which hardened as he passed above her, grazing the sensitive flesh with morning stubble on his chin. He followed that with a hot breath. Kerry’s head fell back, and she exhaled.

He hid a smile. No doubt, she’d be wet already, and he wanted to test the waters, so to speak—hell, he wanted to taste them, but not yet. Not until he drove her as crazy as he was.

“Let’s move to the bed,” he murmured.

Before she could reply, he guided her to the rumpled mound of covers and pillows and shoved them all to the floor with an impatient sweep of his arm.

At her surprised little gasp, he took her face in his hands and anchored his gaze to her. “I don’t want anything covering you, anything getting in the way of what I’m going to do to
you. If you want me to do something for you, to you, ask me using very precise words. And say please.”

Kerry stared back with wide mossy eyes, dilated yet defiant. “I won’t.”

“We’ll see,” he promised softly. “I have all afternoon to change your mind. Lie on your back.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “No.”

At her challenging, almost smug expression, Rafe knew she was going to enjoy the friendly rivalry almost as much as he was. “Then we’ll do this the hard way.”

Wearing a crooked smile, Rafe dropped to his knees on the chenille rug and planted a kiss low on her belly. He glided his fingertips up the back of her thigh, a ghost of a touch. Goose bumps broke out on her arms. Already he could scent the wetness between her thighs.

Another kiss to her belly, moving lower. She caught her breath, then bit her lip to stop the small gasp. He smiled as he lifted her foot into his hand and massaged her instep, opening her flushed, slick flesh to his gaze. He wanted to touch Kerry, taste her, slide so far into her that she would never remember the feel of her body without him.

By some miracle, he managed to keep his stare away from her damp curls and focused on rubbing her foot. Just as she started to relax again, he planted his next kiss on her body, this one the lowest yet, so close to her honey spot. He dragged a fingertip up the inside of her calf, idling up to her thigh, slowing as he approached her pussy. But he never quite touched it. Her thighs tensed. Her breathing quickened.