Page 64 of Rafferty's Rules
‘You must’ve worked up an appetite.’ Hooking his mouth up in one corner, his response is a teasing drawl as he rests his shoulder on the bathroom doorframe. He slides a hand into the pocket of the shorts he’s wearing, drawing my attention to a place it’s too early in the morning to be hungering for.And I am a liar because we’ve already had sex today. The slow, sensual kind of coupling where Rafferty seemed content to kiss and suck every inch of my skin. The kind of sex that left me gasping and moaning and wrapping my whole self around him in desperation. My heels digging into his butt cheeks, my fingers grasping the muscles in his back. As I’d sunk my teeth into his shoulder to suppress a moan of delirious torment, he’d risen above me, his body surging into mine as he’d groaned an appreciative sound.
‘Is sex supposed to make you this hungry?’ I ask, pointing at my stomach. My cheeks tingle with embarrassment, but more from the recollection of this morning over anything else.
‘Yeah, usually for more sex,’ he responds, loosening the waist of his shorts. ‘And stop looking at me like that, or they’ll have moved onto the lunch menu before I can make it to the café.’
‘I’m okay with that.’
He moves towards me like a man with ideas. ‘That might be a plan. It’ll keep you off that yellow peril at any rate.’
‘The what?’ I ask, twisting out of his arms once again, moving to where my shoes lie under the bed. Because he has a meeting and I have sore lady parts. Also, I don’t want to appear needy. Plus, this girl has exploring to do.
‘The bike—the bloody great thing that was at the front door last night.’
‘Oh, that.’ I cross my fingers and show them to him. ‘I hope it’s still outside. And just because I slept in your bed doesn’t mean you get to be the boss of me.’
‘For one, I’d hate to be your boss.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘You’re far too persuasive,’ he says after a beat. ‘And we’d never get any work done.’
‘You say that like it’s a bad thing.’ I sort of chuckle. ‘But did you see it outside while you were downstairs. The bike, I mean?’
‘Yeah, it was there,’ he says unhappily. ‘Though I thought about riding it to the café and leavin’ it there—’
‘Don’t you dare!’
‘—but I don’t think I’d survive the ruination of my street cred,’ he calls over his shoulder as he steps back into the bathroom. A moment later, the shower switches on.
‘It’s just as well. I’m not worried about street cred,’ I mutter to myself, grabbing my purse from the chair and sitting down to pull out what makeup items I have left.Which is not a lot.Next, I count my money because I have plans today. I also need something to distract me from what’s going on in the next room; the sounds of water sluicing overlaid by Rafferty’s tuneless hum.
Stick with the basics, I tell myself.Don’t imagine the water flowing over the planes and ridges of him, his large hands following as he takes himself in his hand...
Before I’ve even realised, I’m at the bathroom door, watching the flex of his biceps as he rubs shampoo into his hair. Water tracks the strong musculature of his back, following the natural contours of his body, running over his—
Oh my God, I’m a peeping Tom!I force myself away from the door.
‘Don’t worry about breakfast,’ I say brightly as he emerges from the shower moments later with a fluffy towel wrapped around his waist. ‘I’ll grab something later.’
Did he see me? Notice I was there?
I glance down to avoid the sight of him, noticing a corner of a sheet of paper peeking out from under the bed. ‘Look!’ I pull out the crumpled copy of Rafferty’s Rules, and the pen, too, before the man himself takes it from my hand.
‘I still can’t believe this,’ he murmurs, smiling down at it almost fondly.
‘The lengths I’d go to,’ I murmur, snatching it back. I attempt to straighten the wrinkles by smoothing it against my chest. ‘I’m very persistent. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed.’
Rafferty’s gaze cuts sideways to me, and though he tries to look unamused, the effect seems to be the exact opposite. ‘I might’ve observed such behaviour.’
As I curl my finger in a come closer motion, he bends his ear to my lips. ‘And I might’ve noticed you like being chased.’
His bark of laughter echoes through the room as he pulls me tightly to his chest for the hug of the century. He moves us from side to side, his chest rumbling against my own. When we eventually break apart, Rafferty takes the note from my hands, and I return to the bathroom, greeted in the mirror by my ridiculously happy smile. I brush my teeth and take my medication, and when I come out, Rafferty is almost fully dressed. Narrow fitting dark pants and a baby blue button-down.
‘What are you doing there, mister.’ Back to me, he’s hunched over the dresser.
‘Just adding a few things to my list.’
‘Such as.. .?’ I peek over his shoulder, expecting him to have listed things of a sexual nature—ways he plans to debauch me and positions he wants to try. Instead, what I see is almost more shocking.
