The corner of his mouth tugs upward. “Much better.”
I feel bare, but I also feel good. He wouldn’t be undressing me in the car if he didn’t mean business.
“Can I at least have my phone back so I can text work and tell them I can’t come to the restaurant, after all?” I inquire.
“Nope,” he says, simply.
I shake my head at him, but I don’t bother arguing. I watch out the window and ride in silence, since he’s clearly not going to talk until we get to his house.
I wonder if he’ll talk at all. I wonder if he’ll let his body do the talking instead. I close my eyes, letting memories wash over me. Memories of us rolling around in his bed, memories of us in the shower, memories of his warm brown eyes and all the tenderness they held for me. That’s much nicer than watching the scenery, anyway.
When we get to his house, Rafe takes my hand and leads me upstairs to his bedroom. My heart soars the whole way there. As soon as we get in his bedroom, he takes both our phones out of pockets and deposits them on his dresser, then he walks over to me. He stands so close, I can feel his breath. I’m tempted to lean up on my toes and kiss him, but I wait. I know he likes for me to follow his lead.
Looking down at me, he commands, “Unbutton my shirt.”
I can’t keep from smiling, reaching for the top button and pushing it through the hole, then the next, and the next until his shirt is gaping open. I slide my hands inside and push the fabric down over his broad, sexy shoulders. Since we were outside today, he’s wearing a white tee underneath. I don’t see him in a lot of T-shirts.
I don’t see him in this one for very long. As soon as his dress shirt hits the ground, he reaches back and grabs the neck of his shirt, tugging it off and tossing it on the floor.
“Mm, much better,” I tell him, bracing my hands on his muscular chest.
“Yeah?” he murmurs, encircling my waist with his perfect arms.
“Mm hmm,” I agree, as his lips brush my neck and send shivers down my spine.
“What color panties are you wearing, Virginia?”
I bite my bottom lip and look up at him, looping my arms around his neck. “They match my bra.”
“I want to see.”
I drop my arms and reach down to unbutton and unzip my jean shorts, pushing them down my legs and kicking them away from me so I’m standing here in just my bra and panties.
“Good girl,” he tells me, running his hand down my arm, letting his eyes take their time perusing my body. His hand touches my hip briefly, then he takes a couple steps away from me. “Sit on the bed. I need to grab something.”
I walk over to the bed and take a seat on the edge, looking at the sight of his sexy back. God, I’ll never stop being impressed with his back. As much as I adore his whole body, I think his incredible, muscular back might be my favorite part. I think I would have fallen in lust just catching a glimpse of him from behind at a swimming pool. I can certainly see why so many women have.
Most of them didn’t try to keep him, though. Even as I sit here half-naked on his bed, memories of how much it hurt when it ended flash back to me. He wouldn’t be starting things again unless he was sure this time… right?
When Rafe saunters back over, he’s holding a pair of metal hand cuffs. Tossing aside the inadvertent symbolism of him bringing over metal restraints when I’m worrying he’ll leave me again, I bring my gaze back to his face.
“I want to cuff you,” he tells me.
“Okay,” I say slowly. “Are we playing cops and robbers? Are you going to be a cop? I like it. I can work with this.”
Rafe smiles ever so faintly. “Yeah, that would be a hell of a role reversal, wouldn’t it?”
Shooting him a coy look as he places my first wrist in a cuff and secures it, I ask him, “Do I have a back story? Did I shoplift a Christmas ornament? Or am I a sexy cat burglar? Since we’re playing pretend, we can go much bigger. I can do worse things than I would ever actually do. Ooh, I could be a con woman, and you’re the man I tried to steal from. How will you punish me, Mr. Morelli?”
He puts my other hand in the other cuff and clicks it shut, pulling on it to make sure the lock holds. His lip tugs up in faint amusement, but something seems off.
“Are all my ideas stupid?” I ask, watching him. “I confess, I’m not entirely sure how roleplay works. I’ve never done it before.”
“No?” he asks. “Seems like you have.”
I watch him step backward and bend down to retrieve his dress shirt from the
floor. He slips it back on, but doesn’t bother buttoning it. Then he walks over to the dresser and picks up his cell phone, tapping out a text message.