Megan
In a daze, I walk toward the back of the coffee shop, my hand in Rafe’s, pulling him along. He’s offering no resistance, his grip so tight around my fingers it hurts, but I don’t care. It feels good, feels right.
His presence, like always, zips down my nerve endings like electricity, raising goosebumps on my skin, making my breasts feel heavy and tight. Lighting an ache inside me, creating a void I don’t know how to fill.
I try to ignore it, and focus instead on placing one foot in front of the other. When I saw him standing there, caught between rage, fear, and a sadness so deep it cut like a blade, I didn’t know how to help.
Not sure how one person can hold so much inside and not come apart. I’d give anything to take that darkness from his gaze, and isn’t that the weirdest thing? For someone I have barely exchanged two words with in the past months?
But I know what it is. It’s that pain, that anger and fear I glimpse behind the façade that keep me coming back.
And the façade sure is beautiful. As soon as we reach the back wall and I turn to face him, I’m struck speechless again. That square jaw, those pretty long-lashed golden eyes, that soft mouth… Throw in the tall, strong body, and I’m just about drooling with lust.
Dammit, Megan. Stop. I glance back at the crowded tables, then down at my long apron. Stop it.
I’m doing by best not to look at him, but it’s a lost battle. I’m painfully aware of the heat of his body, so close to mine. Of how good his strong hand feels wrapped around mine. He’s all I can think of.
I tug on it half-heartedly, not really wanting to let go.
He tugs back, pulling me to him. I gasp in shock when our bodies collide, tilting me off balance. Before I fall, his other arm comes around my back, shoring me up. Keeping me pressed to his muscled thighs and chest, my breasts mashed against him.
Oh dear God.
He’s looking down at me, his gaze hot as flames, and his mouth is so close my own goes dry. I lick my lips, my free hand sliding up his chest to rest between his defined pecs, and his head bends lower. I feel his heart stutter under my palm.
In silence, he walks me backward until my back hits the wall. He lifts our entwined hands and shoves them against the fading wallpaper. His other arm is still around me, keeping our bodies flush, so that I feel every excited inch of him, the hard, thick rod of his erection digging into my stomach through our layers of clothes.
Another gasp escapes me, and I feel myself growing hot and wet between my legs. A throb starts low in my belly, and I try to lift myself on my toes, to press more of my body to his, my hand straining where it’s held to the wall in a grip of steel.
His lashes shadow his eyes, and a shudder rocks him. His lips part. His breath fans over my skin, a faint scent of mint and smoke.
“Megan…” he whispers.
I still, my hand on his muscled chest, the other clenching uselessly in his hold. Caught between the wall and his hard body, caught in his burning gaze, I don’t know what to do.
Oh God.
Reality returns with a thump. Oh no, what am I doing? We’re at the coffee shop. At work. We’re standing in plain view of everyone—the customers, the other waiters—and my boss isn’t too thrilled with me as it is.
Speaking of the devil… I see him heading toward me, a scowl on his reddened face.
Shit.
I push on Rafe, to no effect, the firm muscle under my hand like stone. His golden brows draw together when I push again. I jerk my other hand, trying to get free.
“Let me go,” I hiss when he doesn’t budge. “Rafe…”
“Goddammit.” He releases me and takes a step back, a grimace tightening his handsome features. “Sorry.”
His eyes wide and unfocused, he turns and walks away.
Whoa. What the hell just happened?
“Hey, wait, let me explain. Wait!” I start after him, reaching for him, but he doesn’t stop. I watch his broad back as he strides between tables and out of the coffee shop, letting in a gust of icy wind and snowflakes.
I head after him, but the boss intercepts me, hands on hips, jowls trembling with his anger, and it’s lecture time, about my place as an employee, I’ll bet, and my unsuitable behavior.
Sure way to deal a death blow to an evening already gone to hell.