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“I don’t believe in rules. I mean, I’ve kissed you.” He smirks. “Kissed you so thoroughly we had a baby.”
I snicker even as arousal slams through me. “Someone needs to explain biology to you, Mr. Vestri. Kissing doesn’t work that way.”
“Oh, I know my biology.” He finally looks up, his golden eyes heated. “I’ve mapped your body and branded it in my mind. And I know where babies come from.”
“Do you, now?” I shiver, because I remember him by my side as I pushed Zay into the world, and where I’d been aroused, now I’m not so sure anymore I want him touching me at all.
As if reading my mind, he flashes me that sexy grin of his, and says, “You’ll see, babe. I won’t hurt you. I swear.”
I trust him. Have trusted him from the start, and he has never let me down.
“If Zay falls asleep, and if he doesn’t wake up after half an hour crying,” I say, because it has happened before.
“Zay and I, we have an understanding. Don’t we, buddy?” Rafe takes away the empty milk bottle and lifts the baby to make him burp. “You sleep, and I will go down on my beautiful girlfriend until she screams my name.”
“That will wake him up,” I point out, feeling flushed and warm all over again, my pussy clenching.
“And it will be worth it,” Rafe says and winks.
***
“What are you reading?” He’s standing at the foot of our bed, dressed only in black pants and his golden mane.
Shirtless.
The book falls from my hand as I stare at him, helpless. “I don’t know.”
He chuckles, a deep sound that runs under my skin and resonates in my center. He comes around the bed to sit beside me. “How’s my girl?”
I want to lie, but I can’t. “Worried about Zane and Dakota.”
“Maybe I can distract you.” He runs a hand over my bare arm. “We could distract each other.”
Goosebumps cover my skin. I want it, so much, and yet I’m afraid. He is distracting all right, the ink covering his impressive chest and arms drawing my eyes like always to his taut pecs, his chiseled abs, his thick biceps.
He leans over me, kissing my shoulder, his hair tickling and cool, his mouth hot, his tongue a rough-raspy counterpoint to the softness of his lips.
My breath hitches. “Rafe…”
“Love you, Meg.” And with that, he presses me back into the mattress and kisses me.
He does know how to kiss me thoroughly, I think fuzzily as he uses his teeth and tongue and lips to light a fire in my blood. The throb between my legs is maddening. I haven’t come since he touched me last week, and that was the only time since giving birth.
I try to press my legs together, to relieve some of the pressure, but his knee finds its way between them. His hand strokes my shoulder, then pulls down the thin strap of my nightie. His palm presses over my breast and I moan in his mouth.
He lifts his head, grins down at me. “Fuck, you’re so pretty.”
And before I can even think of an answer to that, he drags up my nightie to bare me. Instinctively I try to cover myself, though the only visible change to my body is a small belly that’s left from the pregnancy—but I somehow feel embarrassed.
Don’t ask. It makes no sense. This is the guy who knocked me up, after all, and saw me with a bump so big I could barely walk.
His eyes darken. He tugs my hands away from my body, and he closes his mouth over one nipple, shooting electric pleasure through my core.
“Oh God, Rafe…”
By the time he moves to my other breast, I’m arching my back off the bed, begging for release. He has one hand braced on the mattress, but he uses the other one to stroke me over my panties, and I’m so close to coming already, it’s crazy.
He finally looks up and releases my aching nipple, giving it a last lick, like a cat licking the last drop of cream. “Put your thumb in your mouth,” he says, and I blink at him, confused. “I wanna see you do it.”
