Down on Her Knees (Dare Me 3)

Her now-focused hazel eyes were as pleading as her tone, and she backed away from him.

“You need to go now.” Her voice was muffled as she turned. “This was a mistake. That girl? That’s not me.”

He walked back to his car, her final words settling over him like dank smog. If they were true, it would’ve been a damned shame. Because that girl?

He’d walk through hell to have her in his bed.

Chapter Four

“So wait, first and most importantly, is it huge?”

Courtney couldn’t stop her crack of laughter as she met Cat’s lively green gaze in the bathroom mirror. The release of tension felt good. She’d been a walking ball of nerves for the past ten days, terrified of running into Rafe somewhere with no idea what she’d say to him when she did. Add to that a shit day at the hospital with her new boss, and a girl’s night out with Cat was exactly what she needed.

They’d been at Sully’s for less than an hour when a couple beers had loosened her tongue, and Cat had all but dragged her into the restroom to get the dirty details on Rafe.

“Well, spill it, woman!”

The apples of her cheeks grew pink and she shrugged. “I didn’t see it. I didn’t see much of anything. I was…” She lowered her voice to whisper and peered around before continuing, “…facedown on the car most of the time the good stuff was happening.”

Cat’s delighted guffaw echoed through the room, and Courtney shushed her furiously.

“We’re the only ones here, doofus. So what’s this about facedown?” Cat swept a paper towel over the sink area to dry off a spot and hoisted her trim frame up to perch there, legs folded crisscross. “There is literally no possibility of you leaving this bathroom until you elaborate.” Her eyes narrowed as Courtney’s gaze flickered to the door. “You feeling froggy, then jump, but I’ll tell you right now, you’ll never make it. You’re in espadrilles, I’m in flat sandals. I’ll take you down like a fucking gazelle if I have to.”

Courtney didn’t doubt it, but she was still weighing her options, unsure whether reliving the encounter out loud would be more or less painful than the gazelle thing, when a knock sounded at the door.

“Someone in there?” a high-pitched voice called.

The relief must have been evident on her face because Cat slashed her hand across her own throat in warning before calling back, “Yes. And sorry, it’s going to be a while. Bad Thai food.” She added a long, loud groan for good measure. “There’s another single-stall bathroom behind the dance floor.”

Her declaration was met with silence and then the retreating clickety-click of heels on hardwood. After a few seconds, she beckoned Courtney with a hand before propping her chin on her fists like a child waiting for a bedtime story. “Continue.”

Courtney sank into the tiny vanity chair in the corner with a resigned sigh. There had been a time, before she’d moved to New England last year and met Shane and his friends, that a conversation like this would have been impossible. A time where she didn’t have one friend left to go out for drinks or gossip about guys with. Because of Wes.

Her stomach churned as she remembered those days, and she shoved the dark thoughts aside. She was here now, and she had four great friends and one…whatever the hell Rafe was. The point was, she wanted to share the good stuff with Cat. Maybe talking it through would give her some previously unattainable clarity.

“Okay, so what did I already tell you?”

“Nothing,” Cat said with a snort of disgust. “You said you had an ‘uncomfortable conversation,’ and then things got weird and you stopped coming around like a butt-face.”

She deserved that jab. She’d skipped last Friday’s happy hour and a day trip to the lake in an effort to avoid Rafe, and Cat was rightfully irritated by the blow-offs. Hopefully, once she laid it all out for her, she’d understand. Act one of learning to trust again was starting now. She took a slug of her beer and settled more deeply into her dainty seat. This was going to take a while.

“It really started at the reception,” she began slowly, trying not to give any credence to the bubbly sensation rising in her chest as she told the story. So strange that she’d expected being dominated would remind her of what it was like to feel weak, because in those moments with Rafe, she’d never felt sexier or stronger.

By the time she got to the part where he tore off her underwear, she was grinning like a teenage girl with her first major crush, and Cat was gaping at her, wide-eyed.

“So. Hot,” she whispered, her fingers fluttering at her throat.

“You don’t know the half of it. The things he said.” Courtney fanned her heated face and shook her head, at a loss as to how to put her feelings into words. “The way he said them…”

“He made you feel like you were the sexiest, most desirable woman on earth,” Cat whispered reverently, a secret smile tugging at her lips. “Shane does that too, although maybe not quite the same way. But it’s awesome.”

Cat’s drawing correlations between her relationship with her husband-to-be and Courtney’s own one-night not-quite fling with Rafe served as a much-needed slap back to reality.

“Not the same thing,” she said, clearing her throat and springing to her feet. “Anyway,” she chirped brightly. “You wanted to know why I’ve been scarce. That’s the reason. We parted ways, but not before he issued a challenge of sorts. Next time I see him, I’m supposed to tell him whether I want to do a few scenes with him, or forget it ever happened.” As if.

Cat nodded, but looked a little green around the gills. “Wow. That’s big.”

“Are you okay? You look nauseous.”

“Nope, I’m good. So, um, have you thought about what you’re going to do? You know, if you, like, run into him?”

The better question was, had she thought of anything else? She shrugged and led the way out the door, back into the bar, and Cat followed. “Of course. But I’m trying to keep a clear head. It’s sucked not being able to come around, and if we hook up, I’m nervous things will get weird between us after it’s over, and it will screw up the group dynamic more than it already has.” And because I’m scared shitless of how he makes me feel, she stopped herself from adding. Trust was one thing; baring her soul, even to her friend, would have to wait for another day.

“There’s always been tension between you. Probably won’t be any weirder than before,” Cat hedged, slowing her pace until Courtney had to stop altogether to avoid yelling down the hall to respond.

“Well, luckily, I can take as much time as I need to think about it. When Lacey gets back from her honeymoon, the three of us can hang out and stuff, but I’ll avoid the boys until I’m sure.”

She kept her tone light, but she felt a bit deflated…hollow inside. Saying it all out loud and sharing what had happened between her and Rafe had felt good at the time, but now it only served as yet another reminder of how amazing it had been.

And she hadn’t even told her friend the best/worst part.

After too many solo close calls to calculate, and encounters with boyfriends that had started off so promising but fizzled out too soon, her sexual journey in life had been an exercise in frustration. Until that night when, in less than fifteen minutes, with seemingly no effort at all, Rafe Davenport had used his magic hands to gift her with her first and only orgasm.

Ever.

She was factoring that little reminder in with the rest of her jumbled list of pros and cons when Cat grabbed her arm and squeezed, pulling her to a stop.

“Listen, Court, there’s something I have to tell you.” Her friend’s face was pinched with worry and Courtney’s stomach did a free fall. “And I’m pretty sure you’re gonna be mad.”

…

“You want to split a pitcher or you want a scotch?” Shane called over his shoulder as he made his way to the bar.

“Surprise me.” Rafe picked up his third and final dart, briefly considering whether to walk up to the board and bury it dead-center when Shane wasn’t looking just to fuck with him. He opted against it, mainly because he was feeling pretty grateful to the guy. His phone call had saved him another night prowling around the house, restless as a caged lion.

Work was stressful, but that was standard during the hotter months. As the temperature rose, so did people’s tempers, and violent crimes skyrocketed. But if he was being honest with himself, it was more than that. Ever since he’d laid the dare at Courtney’s pretty feet he could think of little else. He imagined—or hoped, maybe?—that she was in the same bad way, although it didn’t seem likely. If her absence was any indicator, she’d either settled on a nonverbal “no” or was avoiding him like the plague.

Neither option sat well with him, and his relief at getting out of the house evaporated instantly. Maybe it was time to admit defeat and move on. He cocked his wrist and let the dart fly just as a low gasp sounded behind him.

His pulse sped as he turned to see Courtney standing by the hallway leading to the restroom. If her flushed cheeks and shocked eyes were any indication, she hadn’t expected him to be there.

Cat stepped between them and waved. “Hey, Rafe! You’re here. I wasn’t sure you guys were coming.” She scrubbed her pert nose—maybe to stop it from growing?—and offered him a shaky grin.

Before Rafe could respond, Shane strode toward them, pitcher of lager in hand.

“Hey, babe.” He checked out his fiancée, oblivious to the melodrama playing out around him, and let out a low whistle. “You look gorgeous tonight.” He slung his free arm around her and pulled her close for a quick, hard kiss.

Cat scrambled away and shot a miserable look in Courtney’s direction as she took the pitcher from her man and set it on the long oak table. “Why don’t we go see Sully and get me and Courtney a couple frosted glasses?”

He waved her off with a grin. “Sit, I’ll get…” He trailed off at her pointed glare and sent her a puzzled look before nodding. “Yeah, sure. Not clear on why this is a two-man job, but let’s do it.”

She rolled her eyes, mumbling something as she tugged him toward the bar. A second later, Rafe was alone with Courtney.

He dug deep for a tight smile, but it was rough going because she looked distractingly spectacular. Heels, naturally, just to twist the knife a little. Wedge sandals, to be exact, in a rainbow of colors that made him think of sunshine. And fucking. He worked his way from the bottom up, taking in her tight little body, dressed for the ninety-degree heat in shorts that made him hope a game of pool was in their future and a lemon-yellow halter top that clung to her curves in the best way. Her long thick hair was high up in a sloppy topknot that had him instantly fantasizing about taking it down.

Or commanding her to take it down for him once he stripped her bare so he could watch those locks tumble loose in a silky waterfall over her full, ripe—

He put that thought on lock, quick. No point in waiting. He was nothing if not a man of his word, and he’d already broken one vow he’d made to her. He’d keep this one whether she wanted him to or not.

“So what’s it going to be?”

She clearly had no clue he was going to be there, and he waited for the platitudes he knew were coming. Maybe she’d give some bland excuse about a hazardous coffeepot she’d neglected to turn off. Or maybe she’d stay for a few minutes to be polite and then fake an emergency at the hospital.

But he couldn’t have been more wrong.

Instead, she stared at him like he was a scorpion guarding a cheesecake. A mixture of longing and fear played over her rounded features, and he resisted the urge to comfort her. Offer her more time. But sometimes the best decisions were the ones made when a person relied on their gut to provide the answer instead of letting their thoughts complicate matters.