Grace
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For a big man crammed into a tight space, Rafa moved with incredible agility. The instant she said, “I do,” he’d somehow caught her up in his arms and clasped her tight. For a split second, she was amazed and impressed that he’d managed it without smacking his or her elbow or head into anything.
And then his lips met hers, and she stopped thinking of anything at all. She only felt. The incredible strength of his arms around her, holding her tight and safe and warm. The silky strands of his hair falling around her face. The heat of his mouth. The wild passion of his kiss, like nothing she’d ever felt before.
She melted into him, trying to press every inch of her body into his. There was no part of her that didn’t want to be touched by him. And to touch him. His skin was so smooth over the hard muscle it covered. She slipped her hands under his shirt, caressing his back and chest. When she toyed with his nipples, she felt as well as heard his indrawn breath of pleasure.
“No fair.” Rafa’s voice was hoarse. “Yours are all covered up.”
“Gotta do something about that.” Grace heard her own voice crack.
She began to wriggle out of her long-sleeved shirt, rolling it up over her sides. He helped her slide it over her breasts, then over her head and off. It was quickly followed by her tank top.
That left her bra. Which, she realized with regret, wasn’t one of her sexy satin or lace bras, but a gray cotton sports bra that covered up nearly as much as her tank top.
“If I’d known I was going to strip under a table, I’d have worn something nicer,” she said. “Or at least something less.”
“Are you kidding?” Rafa replied, and beneath the joking she could hear the hunger in his voice. “You’re the best Christmas present ever. Half the fun is in the unwrapping.”
He neatly unsnapped her bra, then slipped it off her shoulders.
There was a brief silence, broken only by the sound of his breathing. She’d never seen a man look at her like Rafa was looking at her, like she was the most precious and desirable woman in the entire world. When he cupped her breasts in his hands, it was reverence as well as lust. He started teasing her nipples, making them contract into taut little nubs, and then she couldn’t look at him any more because her eyes had closed of their own accord.
She felt for him, found his mouth, and kissed him hard and greedily. He responded with a passion to match her own, his muscles tensing with his sharp inhale. He wanted her just as much as she wanted him, she could feel it, and that only made her hotter and hungrier. And all the while, his fingers never stopped moving over her breasts, never stopped sending shuddering ripples of delight up and down her spine.
Grace lay in the heated dark, trembling with pleasure and conflicted desires. She wanted him to go on stroking and caressing and fondling her breasts forever and she wanted him to reach a little farther down and she wanted to unzip his pants and—
Rafa reached a little farther down. She drew in a breath as his fingers slipped into her panties and rubbed her sensitive clit. Her hands clenched on the bulging muscle of his shoulders, harder and harder as the waves of pleasure washed over her, building and building until she was gasping and panting and digging her nails into his skin with the power of her climax.
An eternity later, she opened her eyes. Rafa was holding her, breathing as hard as she was, his black hair hanging in sweat-damp strands and his dark eyes hot with desire. The air was like steam all around them, suffused with an enticing masculine musk. Grace should have been done, but she just wanted more. And he hadn’t had anything yet.
She dropped her hand down, and found the right spot just as easily as he’d found her clit. A huge, steel-hard erection thrust into her hand. She grabbed it and squeezed.
“Oh, God,” Rafa groaned—or maybe growled was a better word.
He shoved his hand into his jeans pocket. She felt him fumbling for what felt like ages before he withdrew it, condom in his fingers and triumphant gleam in his eyes. “Got it! If you want it.”
“Of course I want it. You get it open. I’ll get you open.” She put her hands on the button of his jeans.
“That might be hard,” Rafa said. He clearly had no intention of making a joke, and looked startled when she laughed. Then he joined in, a little raggedly. “In more ways than one.”
He was right. She struggled with the button—his jeans were pulled so tight, she was surprised they hadn’t ripped—and finally managed to get it open.
Rafa gave a sigh of relief as she unzipped his jeans. “That’s better.”
He helped her shove his jeans and boxers down past his hips. His cock was just as big as the rest of him, and pressed against her belly like a steel rod.
She rolled down her panties. They were still half-clothed, with his shirt and her skirt on, but there was no way she was going to wait long enough to fully undress to get him inside her. That would feel like an eternity of tortured longing. They’d gotten rid of the clothing that would be a barrier, and that was all they needed to do.
“Now, Rafa,” she said. “Put it in me now!”
“I love a woman who knows what she wants.” His voice dropped to a husky purr that made her even more desperate. If she didn’t get him inside her right now, she’d lose her mind.
He wrapped his arms around her and slid into her with a single thrust. She arched against him, moaning. It felt so good to have him inside her. So delicious. So right.
Rafa gave a soft little growl with every thrust, a noise that sounded just as satisfied as she felt. There was something about him that reminded her of some great cat. A lion, with that incredible hair of his, even though it was black rather than blond. Something primal and untamed.
“Come on,” she heard herself muttering, and didn’t know if she was talking to him or to herself. “Come on. Come on—”
Pleasure flared within her, brilliant as a sunburst. She was still floating on it when she felt Rafa come, his growl now loud and fierce.
They lay still, spent and happy and close together. She laid her head on his shoulder. There was something so comforting about the solid muscle of his body. It made her feel like she was perfectly protected. She probably was. After all, he was a bodyguard. He protected people for a living.
Rafa stroked her hair. How could a big tough bodyguard like him have such a gentle touch?
How could she have ended up under the table with a guy like him? Rafa was handsome, sexy, strong, funny, competent, sweet, and obviously not at all turned off by a woman who used tools and ordered people around for a living.
Was he too good to be true?
Or was he her real big break—the perfect man for her?
“I love—” Grace hurriedly closed her mouth on “I love you.” Where had that thought come from? It was ridiculous. Way too soon. The heat and the mind-blowing sex must be making her delirious. “Uh, I loved it. Yeah. Fantastic. Has anyone ever told you you’re great at sex? Forget it, I’m sure everyone tells you that, and honestly I don’t want to know about the everyones. I’m sorry, I’m babbling. Pretend I didn’t say anything.”
“I’ll pretend you didn’t say anything but ‘Fantastic, you’re great at sex,’” Rafa said with a grin. “And by the way, so are you. That was the best sex I’ve had in my entire life.”
“Yeah, right,” she couldn’t help muttering.
He cupped her face in his hand. His hands were so big. But not disproportionate, he was just a very big guy. Big all over. She had never cared one way or another about height or bulk, but Rafa’s great big hands were incredibly sexy. So were his great big muscles. And his great big—
“Hey. I’m not handing you a line. It’s the truth. I love—” Rafa broke off. “Uh, I loved it too. Come on, do you think I faked my orgasm?”
Grace couldn’t help laughing. “No. I didn’t fake mine, either.”
“So, we’re agreed,” he said easily. “Best sex ever. We should do it again some time.”
“How about right now?” she suggested, then shook her head. “Wait, no, we can’t. I still have to rewire the sound board.”
“Sure. I’ve got your tools right here.” He stretched out his arm and tapped her tool box.
“Let me get dressed first. No way am I using a soldering iron topless.”
“That would make a great pin-up calendar,” he teased. “‘Sexy Stage Manager Strip-Solders!’”
Grace wriggled out from under the table, then watched incredulously as Rafa extracted himself with athletic ease.
Navy SEAL, she reminded herself. Top 1% or whatever at getting in and out of tight spaces.
All the same, it was very impressive. And she loved watching him move, with his catlike agility and sensual flex of muscle. It was hard to tear her gaze away, especially when he was so deliciously disheveled, with his shirt untucked and his pants pushed down and his hair falling all over his face. He looked like the living embodiment of sex.
He reached back under the table and handed Grace her clothes, which she put on while he disposed of the condom in the nearest trash can, thoughtfully hiding it under an avalanche of coffee cups.
As she leaned over to adjust her skirt, he reached out, pushing her hair back on one side. “Hey, I missed seeing that before.”
She knew what he saw: a butterfly tattooed behind her ear, and the words, fly free. “I got it for my eighteenth birthday.”
Rafa touched it. Once again, she was amazed by the delicacy of his strong hands. “It’s very you. I like it.”
“Thanks. And now I really am fixing the board,” Grace said reluctantly. “If you come along, all you’re going to be doing is handing me tools.”
She slid back under the table. Rafa followed. Just as she’d asked, he did nothing but pass her whatever tools she requested. He did stay very close to her, but it wasn’t as if he had much of a choice, and she sure wasn’t going to object. It was nice not to have to work alone, and even nicer to work with assistance from a sexy guy who, bizarrely, seemed perfectly content to lie there and watch her solder wires.
The time flew by. Finally, she was done. She wriggled out from under the table, stretched, and yawned. Rafa followed her out, his eyes as bright and his demeanor as energetic as it had ever been.
“Thanks for letting me help,” he said.
“You weren’t bored?” Grace asked.
He shook his head, sending his sleek hair flying. “I have a teammate, Shane, who’s an amazing martial artist, and I love watching him practice. I have another teammate, Fiona, who’s an undercover specialist, and I love watching her get into character. Watching you fix that board was like that.”
Grace’s eyes stung with unexpected tears. She looked away.
“I’m serious,” Rafa protested.
“I know you are.” Grace heard her voice come out thick and choked. Normally she hated showing that kind of emotion in front of people. But something about Rafa made it feel all right. “It’s just that most people think it’s weird for a woman to be good at this sort of thing. Lots of men literally don’t believe me when I tell them what I do.”
“Show me those idiots, and I’ll break them in half for you,” Rafa snarled. Grace stared at him, her mouth open. He sounded like he meant it. “Women command ships in the Navy. Women serve on submarines. There’s women on my team, and I trust them with my life. As for your job, well, you don’t strip wires with your balls.”
She snickered. “I would hope not.”
His brown eyes seemed to spark as he went on, “What exactly is their problem? They’re such knuckle-draggers themselves, they think women aren’t evolved enough to use tools?”
That made her grin. “Basically. But it’s not just that I work on mechanical and electrical equipment. It’s that I give orders, and a lot of the time I have to do it fast, so there’s no time to say ‘please’ or ‘thank you.’”
“I don’t want anyone bothering with ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ when there’s bullets flying,” Rafa remarked. “Even metaphorical bullets. I’ve heard you over the headset. It is literally impossible for you to say ‘please’ for everything.”
“And I work too hard and I care too much about my career and I’m too driven. For a woman. Anyway, that’s what they say,” she concluded.
“I’m driven,” Rafa pointed out. “I work hard. I care about my career. Same with everyone who’s ever gotten through BUD/S. And everyone on my team. And everyone who ever succeeds at anything. You don’t need a dick to work hard, but if you put people down for doing what you’re too lazy to do yourself, then you are a dick.”
Grace swallowed. “Thanks. That means a lot to me.”
“This isn’t just about work, though, is it?” He sounded cautious, as though he was stepping on glass. “Someone specific did something to you.”
“Yeah. My ex.” Grace hesitated, knowing the rule about not discussing exes on a first date. But Rafa had asked, and in a way that made it obvious that he’d drop it if she didn’t want to talk about it. So she gave him the briefest possible explanation of Dean and how he’d lied to her, cheated on her, and ended up in jail.
“But the worst part was that he wouldn’t let it go,” she went on. “He kept calling and emailing me and insisting that I wasn’t being fair to him and he could explain and I had to give him one more chance. He just would not respect me telling him not to stop contacting me. I had to change my email and phone number to get rid of him.”
A protective fury burned in Rafa’s eyes. “He’s lucky he’s in jail where I can’t get to him. But you let me know if you ever hear from him again. I promise, it’ll be the last time you do.”
“I will.” Grace felt warm inside hearing his promise, and seeing that he didn’t blame her. And it was good to know that he wasn’t the type to refuse to take no for an answer. “Do you have little sisters, by any chance? You seem like the big brother type.”
“I do. Two of them. But I also have big sisters. Two of them, too. I grew up with a lot of strong women. My mom, my grandma, my aunts, my sisters. In my—my family, it’s traditionally the women who—the women who are strong.” Rafa broke off, looking irritated, though she got the sense that he wasn’t annoyed at her, but at himself for tripping over his words. He’d sounded like he’d meant to say something else entirely.
Family secrets, she thought. Grace didn’t press him on it. Every family had some.
“Anyway, I lo—I like the woman you are. Driven. Hard-working. Giving orders. Organized. Smart. Good with tools.” With a wicked smile, he added, “Good with your bare hands, too.”
“You’re not bad yourself. Hey—be a gentleman? Walk me to my car?”
“But of course.” Rafa managed a seated bow, and even one which looked elegant rather than ridiculous.
He escorted her to her car, clearly keeping a lookout for bad guys, and kissed her before she got in. It was all she could do to not drag him inside for a backseat quickie.
As she drove through Santa Martina’s darkened streets, she thought, Rafa really is a great guy. Why shouldn’t I get a man who’s handsome, fun, sweet, sexy, and crazy about me? It’s just my own insecurities telling me it can never work out.
But that insecure part of her wouldn’t shut up. In a voice like poison, it whispered, What about Paris? If they’re really not romantically involved, why did she pet his arm like that?
Too good to be true.