‘I know just what I’m wishing for.’ Whether or not he was going to be able to stand it was another question.
She had the button on the waistband of his jeans open now and he couldn’t wait. He just wanted to be inside her, to feel her taking him. M
aybe she’d do it here. She could do it wherever she wanted and, when she’d had her way, he was going to take her upstairs and have his. She’d be coming underneath him, breaking apart so softly, so sweetly...
She seemed to know how much he wanted her. Her fingers trailed up his chest, finding their way to his face. ‘You like this?’
‘What do you think?’
‘I think you do.’ She kissed him again. He could taste the brandy on her mouth...
Brandy.
He didn’t want to think about this right now, but the question cut through all of the sensations that were radiating from her touch. How much had she had? He couldn’t remember, but he knew that she’d poured herself a large measure and that she’d been drinking while they were talking. Maybe it didn’t matter...
It mattered. They’d had drunk sex before. Tired sex, no-time-for-it sex, practically every kind of sex in the book. But that was when they were living together.
And yet simply turning away from her now was unthinkable. Hadn’t she just admitted to being the victim of one of the cruellest taunts possible, and hadn’t he just told her that it wasn’t true. If he remembered rightly, he’d kissed her to prove his point.
Okay. He could do this. He was quivering with molten desire, and Mimi was moving against him, but he could do it.
‘Mimi. Wait... Wait...’ He put as much gravitas into the words as he could muster.
‘Rafe...?’ Suddenly she was still, a look of uncertainty on her face. The realisation that this wasn’t going to happen now, that he couldn’t let it happen, almost broke him.
He cupped her face in his hand. ‘How much have you had to drink, honey?’
Rafe felt her cheek burn hot under his fingers. Clearly she wasn’t going to tell him, which wasn’t a very good sign.
‘Is this your idea of being...chivalrous?’ She made the word sound as if chivalry was a deadly sin. Rafe dismissed the notion that if she could pronounce chivalrous she couldn’t be that drunk.
‘Would you get into a car right now?’
She shook her head. ‘Probably not. But you never used to breathalyse me before taking me to bed. What’s so different now?’ Her body started moving against his. That sensual rhythm of hers that Rafe couldn’t resist.
‘The difference is that we’ve not been together for five years. If we really want to do this, then we need to make that decision with clear heads and in the cold light of day.’
‘We won’t, though, will we?’ She was still again.
Loss seared through him. They both knew that this couldn’t work. The only way he would ever get to touch her again was in a moment of madness like this one.
In that case he’d never get to touch her again. Rafe was not going to be the guy who took advantage of her when he knew that she’d had a few drinks. ‘No. We probably won’t.’
She nodded and climbed off him, getting to her feet and marching out of the door. ‘You know, at this moment I could really slap you, Rafe.’ She threw the words over her shoulder.
‘You’d be doing me a favour...’ He leaned back, covering his face with his hands. If she knocked his head off it would at least take his mind off his aching groin.
He heard her stomp upstairs, and then back down again. ‘Don’t even think about driving tonight; you’ve been drinking too. You can sleep on the sofa; it’s a lot more comfortable than at the hospital.’ Her voice was matter-of-fact, brooking no argument. ‘And lock the door.’
He looked at her between his fingers. ‘We don’t need...’ Maybe they did. He hadn’t got around to thinking about what he’d just missed out on yet.
She dropped the duvet that was in her arms on to the floor. ‘Lock the door. And, in case you’re thinking about changing your mind, I’m locking mine too.’ She turned, slamming the door closed behind her so hard that the key rattled.
He got to his feet, twisting the key in the lock, wondering if he should swallow it or throw it out of the window just to be on the safe side. Even when she was angry and he didn’t much feel like it, Mimi still made him smile. He threw himself down on to the sofa, tipping half the brandy left in his glass away into Mimi’s empty one and settled down to brood over the rest.
* * *
Mimi heard the click of the key turning in the lock. Almost overbalancing as she tiptoed back across the hallway, she sank silently to the floor outside the door, pressing her cheek against it. She wasn’t used to drinking more than the odd glass of wine with a meal, and when she closed her eyes she felt dizzy. Perhaps she was a bit tipsy...