‘I did that, didn’t I? Just this morning. This day has been surreal. I hope Farrah at least can sleep.’
Rafe carefully rested his arm across the sofa back, not touching her, but issuing the invitation to come closer. To his relief, she did, snuggling into his side, her head on his chest. ‘You did good tonight, Mercy,’ he murmured, kissing her hair. ‘You were so brave.’
‘Thank you.’ She sounded grimly determined. ‘That’s the plan.’
‘Plan for what?’
‘Being brave. Taking my life back. I’m tired of being afraid, of hiding. Of being alone because I don’t think anyone will want me.’
His heart played a staccato rhythm in his chest. I want you. He drew a breath, fighting the words back down. It wasn’t time. ‘You don’t have to be alone,’ he finally said.
That clearly wasn’t the right thing to say, because she tensed.
Well, shit. He wasn’t sure if he should apologize, and if so, what for exactly. ‘I’m umf—’ Whatever he was going to say was cut off when she grabbed his face and pulled him down, sealing her mouth over his. He grunted in surprise, then groaned, his body perking right up. Everywhere.
So much for exhaustion.
She was humming against his mouth, up on her knees now, so that she hovered over him, her mouth eating at his. She swung one leg over him, never breaking the kiss as she straddled him.
He groaned again, his hands full of her, all hot and incredibly energetic. Undulating against him until he could barely think. God. He shuddered, his hands sliding up and down her back, coming to rest on the perfect curve of her ass.
This was perfect.
She was perfect. And desperate, his mind whispered. She’s too desperate.
And she was desperate, he realized. Not in a good way. Stop this. Now.
With a resolve he never knew he possessed, he yanked away. ‘Wait,’ he panted. ‘Stop.’ Leaning his head into the cushion, he craned his neck to see her face.
Desperate was indeed an accurate description. Her eyes were wild. Unfocused.
Until she blinked, going from sixty to zero in that single blink. Her face flooded with color and she tried to get away.
He let go immediately and she backed off his lap and onto her feet. Which brought the backs of her legs against the coffee table. She stumbled, knocking all the Eden printouts to the floor, her butt hitting the hard wood.
Hard wood, Sokolov? Really? He wanted to groan again, from frustration, confusion, irritation with himself. Because he was harder than any wood on the planet.
‘Mercy.’ His voice was low and gruff. Aroused as hell.
She dropped her chin to her chest, sending her hair flowing over her face like a curtain. She didn’t answer him. Didn’t look up.
His heart sank. ‘Mercy, please. Look at me.’ He was afraid to touch her, afraid he’d do the wrong thing. ‘Please.’
She shook her head, her expression hidden behind the fall of hair. ‘I’ll go now. I’m . . . sorry.’
‘No.’ The single word cracked in the air between them, the command more desperate than she had been. ‘Please. Mercy, you have to know that I want you. You have to know that.’
She huffed a bitter little laugh. ‘It’s not your job to make me feel better, Rafe. I was too pushy. I get it.’ She stood, spinning on her heel to head for the door. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Mercy.’ He softened his voice. ‘Don’t go. Please.’
She stopped walking but didn’t turn to look at him. ‘This was stupid. I was stupid. I’m sorry.’
‘You are not stupid. You’re—’ He cut himself off, because he was about to make things worse.
She turned slowly. ‘I’m what?’
He swallowed hard. Go big or go home. ‘Everything I want.’
She lifted her chin, a frown creasing her brow. ‘Then why did you stop?’
He patted the sofa cushion. ‘Come back. Please.’ He tried to smile, but he was pretty sure he didn’t pull it off. ‘Don’t make me drop to my knees. I might never get up.’
Her mouth quirked so briefly that he might have missed it if he hadn’t been staring at her, willing her to return to him. He held his breath until she retraced her steps, dropping onto the sofa, but at the far end, not next to him.
But she was still here.
‘I stopped because . . . it felt like you were afraid.’
‘I was,’ she said sarcastically. ‘That I’d get rejected. I’ll live, Rafe.’
Wow. He wasn’t sure how to fix this. ‘You think I’m rejecting you? That I’m not interested?’
She shrugged. ‘You’re the one who stopped.’
‘You think I’m lying? That I don’t want you? That’s the most ridiculous thing.’ He leaned sideways until he caught her gaze. ‘Touch me. Know that I’m telling the truth.’
Her chin dipped again, but this time because she was studying his body. Closely. He pressed the flat of his hand against his cock to give himself some relief.
She exhaled quietly. ‘Then why?’
‘Because . . .’ He shook his head. ‘Was this why you came down here? You wanted to make out? I don’t know what you want, Mercy, and I got the definite impression that you didn’t, either.’
Green eyes skewered him, flashing fury. ‘You think I don’t know my mind?’
‘Shit. No. That’s not what I think. Well, maybe a little. It’s just . . . sudden. And it makes me wonder what you wanted me to do.’
Her eyes widened at that. ‘You don’t know what to do?’ she asked, still sarcastic. He actually remembered this Mercy. She’d been snarky when they’d first met, when she sat by his bedside for hours at a time. He’d never expected to be so captivated by such a sharp tongue.
‘Oh, I know what to do. Trust me on that.’ He could imagine it all too clearly, sinking into her body, hot and wet and tight. He shivered and cleared his throat. ‘Jesus, Mercy, I’m hanging on to my control by a thread. But I don’t want to be that man, just another person who takes advantage of you. You had a bad day and maybe you just want to be held. Maybe feel . . . I don’t know. Desired?’ He saw a flicker of need in her eyes and knew he’d guessed right. ‘Maybe even show yourself that you could be with someone that way?’
Her cheeks flamed anew and she looked away. ‘Yes.’
Compassion filled his heart till it ached, but he also felt a smidge of resentment. ‘As much as I’d like that guy to be me, I want to know you want me. Not a convenient, warm body.’