The Way You Look Tonight (The Sullivans #9)(14)

Her pupils dilated, and he could have sworn he heard a small gasp fall from her lips at the tiny contact.

Somehow, he convinced his feet to take a step back from her again. "Your truffles are delicious, Brooke."

"Thank you."

They stared at each other for several heated moments. "I’ve kept you up too late. Go to bed." Before I do more than lick your fingertip.

"Take either of the guest bedrooms and let me know if you need anything." She paused and looked up at him with her big green eyes. "Anything at all."

His head swam with thoughts of all the things he needed from her. Backing her up against the wall. Pinning her against him with his thighs between hers. Pulling the long-sleeved shirt over her head. Lowering his mouth to the soft swell of her br**sts. Drinking in the sweet sound of her gasps and sighs as he laved her skin with his tongue. Lifting her into his arms, before lowering her onto the bed. Using her shirt to tie her arms above her head to her bed frame. And then loving the hell out of her with his hands and mouth until she was begging for more. For all of him.

"I’m not going to need anything." The words came out harder than they should have, but that was only because he was mere seconds from losing control entirely and acting out the scene his brain had just scripted.

"Okay." Her mouth started to move up into a smile, but fell before it got all the way there. "Good night, Rafe."

For a moment, he thought—prayed—she might turn and walk out of the room without giving him a hug good night. But then she was moving closer and wrapping her arms around him. Of course he had to put his around her, too.

Once he was there, he couldn’t do a damn thing but breathe her in...and relish every single inch of her body against his.

"Good night, Brooke."

When she finally moved out of his arms and walked down the hall to her bedroom, he finished cleaning up the kitchen. The dishes didn’t take him long, but before he headed back to the small guest room, he made a quick sweep of the house. First, he checked that all the windows were latched—of course, most of them weren’t—and then the locks on the front door.

When they were kids, the lake was a safe place, but after working as a cop and then a P.I., Rafe no longer trusted in that safety, not even in a sleepy little town like this. He couldn’t stand the thought of anything happening to Brooke as a lone woman on a mostly deserted stretch of road off the lake. First thing tomorrow he’d pick up some better locks at the hardware store.

His ride out to the lake had been a good one, but that many hours on his motorcycle could be fairly exhausting. Still, he knew if he got into bed now he’d only end up lying there fixating on the beautiful woman down the hall, so he started doing push-ups until he was dripping with sweat. Sit-ups were next, a hundred and then a hundred more, until his abs were burning as badly as his arms. By the time he’d finished his impromptu workout, then taken a much-needed shower and climbed into bed, he should have been burnt out enough to fall asleep.

But every time he closed his eyes, he saw Brooke standing, dripping wet in her bikini, her expression at once innocent and yet innately sensual. He’d taken the small guest room farthest away from her. The double bed barely left room for a dresser and one side table, but frankly, he hadn’t trusted himself to sleep only one wall away from her. Not if it meant he could hear every time she rolled over in her bed. Not if it meant he’d be unable to stop wondering if she had changed into pajamas...or if she slept in the nude like he did.

Reeling with full-on need that he hadn’t even come close to squashing, Rafe closed his eyes again and willed himself to sleep.

He’d need every ounce of focus tomorrow to keep his hands off Brooke.

Chapter Five

The next morning, Rafe woke to the sound of the shower running. Even though it was fairly cool in the house, he was sweating. He couldn’t have imagined having this kind of reaction to Brooke, but that didn’t change the fact that he was.

Pissed at himself, he yanked on his jeans and pulled his cell from the pocket. His sister picked up on the first ring. "How’s the lake?"

"The lake is great. It’s the house that’s the problem."

He waited for her to exclaim with surprise, or to ask him exactly what the problem was. But all Mia said was, "When I finally got hold of the selling agent last night, she mentioned it needed a little TLC."

"TLC?" He might have laughed at that ridiculous understatement if his system hadn’t been so twisted up with impossible desire for the beautiful, entirely off-limits woman in the shower down the hall. "You should have seen the look on Brooke’s face when we walked in there, crunching over dead raccoon bones."

Of course, Mia didn’t comment on the animal bones, not when her ears had perked up for a completely different reason. "Wait a minute—Brooke’s still next door?"

"She moved in a few years ago after her grandparents passed away and willed the place to her." As Mia made a sound of distress at the thought of Judy and Frank being gone, he added, "Brooke makes truffles for a living."

"Chocolate truffles?" He could practically see his sister drooling over the phone. "Sounds like the two of you caught up last night," she said in a deceptively easy voice. One he knew better than to take at face value.

"She offered to let me stay with her until I fix up my place enough to move into it. I figure it will take at least a week if I work around the clock on it."