After he’d fucked her ragged.
All night.
But… No. No, no, no.
She was Mia.
So perfectly Mia, it hurt.
He should hug her. He always hugged her hello and good-bye. But he was honest to God afraid to touch her again. Afraid he wouldn’t let go. Afraid he’d do something inappropriate like he’d done at the table when he’d kissed her throat.
And, God, she’d tasted good. Her skin was so soft. And she smelled like Mia, like flowers and vanilla…
Stop. Stop, idiot.
He forced his eyes to the floor and planted his hands at his hips. Breathe. Hold yourself together. Think of Tate. And Joe.
Okay. That helped cool the fire.
He dropped his hands and lifted his head. But shit, she was still Mia. And he hadn’t seen her beautiful face in way too long. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips pursed, her eyes sharp. She was the same Mia he’d always known—at least on the outside. But something was different. Something intangible. And Rafe got the distinct impression that he was at a disadvantage.
“I bet that was a first,” she said in that flippant, irreverent, matter-of-fact tone he loved. A snarky little smile tilted her lips, but she didn’t look pleased. She flipped her purse open and pulled out a thin wallet. “Finding a woman that gorgeous with a mouth that made you desperate not to sleep with her.”
He wasn’t going to touch that. He couldn’t think about another woman while Mia was standing in front of him anyway. Had never been able to. His gaze fell to all her curves covered in a slinky dark silk slip of a dress. The sexy cutouts across her chest and shoulders showed all her smooth skin. The short skirt exposed toned, tanned thighs. Her heels were black velvet. Four inch. With one elegant silver strap at the ankle.
He didn’t understand how she could make such a simple outfit look so hot, he wanted to strip her to the skin. Like, now. “That is one amazing little black dress.”
She smiled, but her dimples didn’t show, and her grin didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s not a little black dress. It’s a get laid dress.” She pulled a card from her billfold. “And I agree, it has been quite a night. In fact, it’s been quite a month, hell, quite a year. For me, anyway. Hopefully, it’s all about to get better.”
“I should let you go, then.” He forced the words out, trying to wipe the idea of Mia with another guy from his mind. “I’m sure there are a dozen guys who’ll take you up on that, and they’d all be better alternatives to Kilbourne.”
Rafe glanced toward the bar. He needed alcohol. Large quantities. Right now. But he’d have to find it somewhere else, because no amount of liquor would erase the sight of Mia picking up another guy. She’d never been a pickup type of girl. Sure she’d had a ton of boyfriends, men Rafe had occasionally met when she’d brought them into town—and God, talk about twisting the knife, every meeting had dug into Rafe like a talon—but she’d never been known to do the one-night-stand thing.
Rafe didn’t know which was worse to imagine—Mia giving her heart and her body to a boyfriend, or Mia giving her body to a stranger.
His guts were a turbulent mess. He needed to get out of here. Away from her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to Top Shelf tonight. Maybe—”
“You had a sure fuck waiting,” she said, cutting off his offer to get together another day. She returned her wallet to her purse and met his gaze. “I get it. Priorities.”
A raw stab of guilt hit. And yeah, even shame. But he knew Tate would never have repeated locker room talk. “Where’d you hear that?”
“I was at a bar with a dozen drunk Rough Riders. Where do you think I heard it?” Attitude snuck into her voice. “Secrets are not bragged about in a locker room. You should have learned that when you got busted for shoplifting at ten, screwing Tina Jenkins under the bleachers at the homecoming football game at fourteen, landing your first threesome with members of the dance team at sixteen—”
“Stop.” He issued the command a little too harshly, but he didn’t need her bringing up every last indiscretion from his life right now—most of which
had been his way of pushing Mia from his mind. A few other people in the lobby cut looks of concern at them. He lowered his voice and asked, “What’s going on with you?”
“Me? Oh, well, that’s a really long conversation.” Her eyes roamed his body in one hungry glance—the way other women looked at him, not Mia. And she started toward him in a slow, fluid stroll. Her dress ebbed and flowed over all her curves, making Rafe’s mouth go dry. Making his palms sweat. And when she kept closing the distance, Rafe lifted a hand to stop her before she was pressed against his body, but she was still way too close.
She tipped her head back and met his gaze directly. Her warm, delicious scent made a deep hunger roll through his body. A repeat of the ravenous streak that engulfed him when she’d pressed her lips to that hot spot behind his ear. His brain hazed at the edges. Thick desire collected low in his gut.
“And talking,” she said, her voice soft and sultry, “is the last thing on my mind.”
“What’s going on, Mia?”
Her hands pressed against his abdomen, and the contact shocked Rafe, shooting electric awareness across his skin. Then her hands moved up his chest, tightening the skin all along his torso and spreading heat deep into his body.
“I’m collecting a debt.” She reached out and tapped the Up button on an elevator. “That’s what’s going on.”